A Rogue's Diary
by KeRmIt-89
Summary: Grace Fulstorm's account as she becomes a rogue of the Alliance. The Lich King is here to destroy all of Azeroth, but who would expect one female rogue to catch his attention as well as The Alliance's...Now complete!
1. Grace

**Grace**

**Book One, Part One**

A rogue's diary is supposed to remain blank. Lifeless. Without a single dash or scribble to recount a glimpse of an assassin's life.

Maybe it's for confidentiality. Maybe for the rogue's own safety. Or, maybe a rogue's life is just too short yet complicated to possibly transfer to simple words. For whatever reason, a rogue's diary is supposed to remain blank.

This is not one of those diaries.

It won't be completely accurate. A few details have escaped me in certain times of distress. I remember details others may find petty, and I've forgotten the most cherished of advice and knowledge.

But more importantly, I've learned to live my life as a rogue. I've taught myself much, and I've learned more from others. This is my narration of that journey. I'm not out to prove anything. I'm writing simply to share my story.

**Book One, Part One**

I wasn't always expected to be a rogue. The first several years of my life were spent somewhat peacefully just outside of Stormwind.

At some point I had a complete family and friends, and most of them have influenced who I am today. My father was a soldier of Stormwind, and an unmoving defender of the Alliance and its morals.

Mother was only a farmer's daughter, but somehow my parents found each other and ultimately found love. Three years after their marriage a baby boy, Lucas, was born. Only two years after my brother did I arrive.

I was named Grace.

My most monumental childhood memory I could recall was at three years old. Father was away, defending a faraway alliance fort that required serious aid. I remember my mother at the door with a man shrouded in gray and blue. Then my mother collapsed, sobbing at the doorway. My small form tried to crawl to her, but Lucas had me by the dress. I must have thought Mommy was hurt, or maybe it was an infant instinct, because I started crying. Mother heard my alarm and was instantly at her children's sides, giving us both a desperate hug. "It's okay," she hushed us through her own tears. I can look back now and realize she wasn't merely soothing us—she was trying to convince herself as well.

I never saw my father again. Only six months later did my mother give birth to another baby boy. He was named Matthew, after my father.

It's a funny concept. If I concentrate really hard, I sometimes see glimpses of my father's face. What pains me to this day is the knowledge that my little brother was never given the chance to see his face or feel the strength of his arms.

I blame them. All of them. The dark scourge that tore through the land my father fought to defend. They tortured our people. Ruined thousands of lives in one deft attack.

Mother took complete charge of the family. When I was younger I thought my mother really had no choice in the matter. Now I see that she had choices. To remain passive or act. To feed herself or to feed her children. To merely let us live or to let us lead meaningful lives. From what I can recall, my mother never stopped. Never quit. She was always looking for ways to please the three of us, and she grew a few premature lines in her skin because of it—but it only made her smile livelier.

What I do remember and miss most were her stories of father. Of bravery and spirit, and of his unfettered willingness to place himself on the front line of defense.

It's likely that my mother glorified his image a bit, but I'm almost certain that it was unintentional. My mother loved my father, and she saw him as perfect.

When we were smaller, the stories were ways of connecting us to father while keeping us mildly entertained. As we grew, the stories did much more. The stories of valor and strength remained, but even I became aware that there was a much bigger story than my father sacrificing his life.

I was sixteen when things began to shift. I was a confused child, torn between what I felt was my duty and what was perceived as my duty.

The only visitors we received at the time consisted of one. A lifelong friend of Lucas and I, named Dennis.

He has become a part of me. He shaped my life, my choices, my personality in ways I could never explain to him. My brother Lucas and he were close friends, but they complimented each other. My brother was more of a jokester, whereas Dennis would emit a calmer, laid back attitude. Both, however, were passionate. And they both shared a love for our home and soldiers.

The pair often discussed joining the ranks as warriors. Normally I would remain with the two, putting in my few words here and there. I admired both of them strongly.

I giggle as I write this, for I remember moments with Dennis that are irreplaceable. How he always jested that he and I would marry and live happily ever after—after he became a renowned hero of Stormwind, of course. We were very close. Lucas, Dennis, and I were constantly together.

Dennis enlisted the day he turned eighteen, and he was training in Stormwind when an out-of-place knock alerted my family of a guest. Normally we kept to ourselves, save for Dennis' company—and even he didn't knock. I was lucky enough to answer the staccato. The door creaked on account of old age, and my eyes gazed at a familiar blue and gray uniform. It brought me back to my toddler memory, where my mother learned the news that changed our family forever.

His shoulders were broad, hands clasped behind his back in an attempt at softening his intimidating look. He was battle-worn, alright—but he carried himself with pride.

"Hello there, young lady." Even his voice echoed experience. "I'm here on important issues. Are your parents home?"

Mother as instantly at the door, her face pale. Despite her efforts to remain composed, I was close enough to see her bottom lip quiver. "Can I help you?" It was nearly a whisper.

"I'm here to discuss your son's future."

The rest I did not overhear. I was sent outside with Matthew, and after Lucas begged to be a part of the conversation (since it was _him _the officer wished to speak of), mother sent him outside as well.

Lucas sat on the ground, resting his chin on his knees. Despite his childish position, my brother gazed with maturity. We didn't speak. Matthew kicked around a stray rock while I watched from beneath our apple tree next to my oldest brother.

Mumbling could be heard through the cottage walls. "I don't have to hear to know what she's saying," Lucas stated.

I knew too, but the look in Lucas' eyes stopped me from mentioning so.

"It doesn't matter," Lucas mumbled as his fingers toyed with a nearby leaf. "It doesn't matter what she tells that recruiter. It's my choice."

"_What more do you want from me?_" My mother's voice cut through indiscernible hums of conversation. It caused me to straighten my back in unease, and even Matthew halted his sport to glance at the origin of the sound.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Lucas' fingers crushed his leaf with a quick but lethal flex. "I'm going to enlist."

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I released it in exhaustion. "Lucas," I began, lowering my gaze. "Joining the Stormwind guard will not bring father back."

"Don't lecture me, Grace. Not when you have the same desire."

My hands gripped the hem of my dress. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know as well as I do who is responsible for our father's death."

"So what, you're going to join the Alliance ranks and kill every one of those monsters on sight?"

"I'm going to do what I can in this war."

"Mother doesn't want you going. She's already lost her husband…"

"If it wasn't for mother, you would do the same!" Lucas hissed.

My throat tightened. I opened my lips to speak, but nothing but nonsense squeaks erupted. "I'm a female. Mother wouldn't approve, and even if I managed to join…I'd be no help."

"Nonsense," Lucas snapped. My head snapped right, eyes glaring at my elder brother. With vigor I was going to tell him that he was pushing his luck and that I wasn't going to put up with his rubbish—but his eyes stopped me. Lucas watched me intently, his body still seemingly relaxed, when he leaned in closer to me. His eyes never left mine. "I'm your brother. I know you better than you think I do. I hear you crying at night sometimes." Even as he whispered to me, moisture pricked beneath my eyes. "You're upset over Father's death, too. But the question is," he wet his lips, hand resting on my knee, "Are you upset enough to simply cry, or angry enough to do something about it?"

I tried not to blink, because if I was to do so, tears would escape. Motionless, I watched as mother and the guard arrived outside. Her face was still solid, the guard looking defeated but still carrying himself regally.

"Children," she called, arms hugging herself. Brushing the dirt out of my skirt, I moved inside, meanwhile attempting to hide red eyes from my mother.

When everyone was inside and the soldier had left, mother could finally stop shaking. "This is our family," she announced. "I will not lose any children to this war. This family has lost enough already."

I was sure Lucas would say something, but he was silent as mother paced to the kitchen to set the tale.

Worry crept into my bones when dinner came around. Intensity filled the room so much I thought the dishware would crumble under pressure. It didn't take long. I was two spoonfuls into my soup when Lucas' own spoon clanked loudly onto the table. "Mother, I think we need to talk about it."

"There's nothing to discuss," my mother stated, her own spoon hovering above the bowl.

"How can you say that?" Lucas asked, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You never asked for my opinion, my hopes—you wouldn't even look at me!"

"Lucas Fulstorm." My mother's aura darkened, almost making me shrink in my chair. "Stop being a selfish child, and thing about this family's needs."

"Why can't you listen for once?" my brother snapped. "I want to enlist. I want to fight for the Alliance."

"Your mother said no. If you'd pause you'd understand why-"

"Why I can't make my own decisions?" Lucas cut in. "I'm an adult now. I don't need to listen to you!" For effect my brother's fist slammed into the table, causing our bowls to rattle.

My attempt at staying low failed, and I couldn't help but glance up. Mother's aura was so hot I thought her hair would catch on fire. Lucas' aura was a good contender.

"That's where you're mistaken. You're as childish as the fit you're throwing. I'll treat you like an adult when you start acting like one."

My older brother was silent, the only movement being the rise and fall of his chest and the stir of disbelief in his eyes. He seemed to have had enough. With a sickly shriek his chair was pushed back, and Lucas disappeared into his room.

Mother returned to her meal, but I could tell the argument had upset her as well.

The rest of dinner was silent.

That night, I couldn't fall asleep. I shared a room with mother, but I easily slipped by her sleeping form.

I sought peace in the still of night. Often I'd wander into the woods, finding shelter in its shadows. And that particular night, I couldn't stop thinking about Lucas' words. Was I starting to agree with him? Starting to yearn for vengeance?

For a moment I considered finding Dennis within the walls of Stormwind. Before he had left he invited me to visit in the daylight, but he never mentioned anything about midnight dilemmas.

As I grew, my understanding of this war did also. Instead of finding closure as I got older, it was as if the more I understood the more I opened a sore wound. Especially the few weeks prior to the mishap. I had cried more often, frustrated at our helplessness of our situation.

The path leading to Stormwind was feet away, but I was well hidden should bandits or grave robbers be out and about.

Perhaps Lucas was right. We couldn't control the past, but we grasped the future. And the Scourge was responsible…

Footsteps echoed down the dirt path, pulling me out of thought. Instinctively I pulled further into the shadows, nearly falling backwards off the rotting log I was plopped upon. Squinting, I peered through the thicket, attempting to discern the human presence I sensed. A single figure slipped by, silently prodding down the path. Silently I slinked off my stupor, slipping through shadows to keep up with the silhouette figure.

In no time I was directly behind the man. He stopped unexpectedly, eyes searching for something in the distance. My eyes widened in shock. "Lucas."

Startled, my brother flipped around, nearly loosing his footing. "What the hell, Grace? You scared me!"

I was going to demand an explanation to his random wanderings, but then the pieces fit together. "You're leaving…to enlist, aren't you?"

His hand rubbed his forehead, bangs forced out of his eyes. "I have to do this, Grace."

I frowned. "You weren't going to say goodbye."

His face fell. "Of course I was going to! You're my sister! You weren't in your room…"

"And you're leaving anyway!" I snapped in a whisper.

Lucas pulled me into a soft hug. "You know I have to go." I held back tears, managing a slight nod signaling I understood. "Hey, you can visit me. I train in Stormwind until I get an apprenticeship."

I nodded. "I know. I know where."

"Good." Lucas paused, his arms braced against my shoulders. "I left a letter for mother. I hope she understands…keep an eye on her, okay? And Matthew, too."

"Mother's going to be devastated," I muttered, wiping away unwanted tears.

Lucas' lips turned into a grimace as his hand gripped my neck. "Be strong for her."

I merely nodded as Lucas planted a kiss on my forehead. "Return home." Another nod as his arms released from my shoulders. He picked up his single sack, and with a wink he returned to his journey.

"Lucas." My voice cracked as if I hadn't used it in days. The man turned, a soft breeze pushing brown looks that matched mine out of his face. "Stay safe."

He smiled. "Of course."

I watched him go. When the dark shape of my brother disappeared into the night, I returned home. I'm not sure if I slept at all that night. I recall laying in bed, shivering even though it was fall, and listening to my mother's breathing.

And dreading the next morning.

I'd hate to relive that sunrise. I was still asleep when my mother awakened. That is, until she shook me awake. "Where's your brother?"

I almost told her I knew, and that Lucas still loved his family, but I shrugged instead. "Lucas, or Matthew?"

The rest was a blur, perhaps because of my hidden secret. Lucas had left a note, as promised, which stated his plans and loyalty to his family. It helped me feel somewhat absolved, and looking back I don't feel remorse for not telling my mother I had seen him leave and did nothing to stop him. My mother and I were able to cry together, Matthew only thirteen but old enough to understand his role. He held my mother tightly.

Days went by. Mother tried to carry on. I missed my brother, but couldn't help but admire his perseverance.

I was thinking of my own hidden desires more and more often. Moments had passed where I considered following in my older brother's footsteps. But if felt as if I was picking sides. It was like my mother had drawn a line, and I could either be for or against her.

After ten days, I wished to visit my brother, and possibly Dennis. For hours before my departure I tried to come up with a believable lie to tell my mother. But it grew late, and my chores were finished. Mother was putting away washed dishes from dinner. I peered meekly through the small doorway. "I'm going into town…for a bit."

My mother turned, curiosity painted on her face. "I thought you hated the trade center."

I felt my face flush pink, fingers gripping the wooden frame. "I thought I'd give in another shot."

She smiled thinly. "Of course."

I nodded, assuming that was my sign of approval. Before I could set off, my mother called my name. "If you see my son," she began as she wiped a final dish, "tell him I love him."

Smiling, I bowed slightly before leaving her to finish.

In all my years, I have slipped by hundreds of men and women. I've needed distractions, weapons, poisons, and the cover of night to do so. But one thing never waned: it wouldn't matter if I had all my tricks ready—I could never slip something by my mother.

At first I was timid about leaving to visit my brother, but Mother always allowed me to go. My travels into Stormwind grew more frequent as I balanced time between my brother and Dennis. I'd watch the guards and soldiers carefully as I waited. How they moved and socialized. Sometimes I could even catch a glimpse of the two as they trained.

It turned out that Dennis had a very strong talent for the Light. He began to train as a paladin after his first week within the Stormwind walls, after he grew startled at a noise and accidentally called forth the Light's blessing, effectively performing a seal on a poor cat in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I would visit Dennis right after sunset, and afterwards used my remaining time to talk to Lucas. There were numerous times when my brother would talk to me until way past dusk, when the stars shined the brightest and the moon guarded the night. We'd simply talk—about his training or new skills. Lucas always asked me about my day, but my stories were never as alluring as his.

We'd talk for hours, until both of us were dreary and nearly asleep. But Lucas never complained of my presence, and if he grew sick of my curiosity he never mentioned it.

One night near my eighteenth birthday, Lucas and I were again caught chatting aimlessly.

"When I'm twenty," he began softly, "I'll be eligible to move in apprenticeship."

"Do you think you'll be chosen?" I asked, pulling my cape tighter as a breeze lifted across the brick steps.

"I sure do hope so," he answered.

"Judging by the stories you've told me, I'd say there's no way they could possibly turn you down." I grinned. "Except for maybe the time you misaimed and shot an arrow through your instructor's hat."

"Hey, I told you that was an accident! Someone jostled me!" Lucas defended.

"Well even with that slight mishap, I think you're the best they've got," I mentioned.

Lucas smiled. "Well thanks, little sis." Suddenly my brother perked up noticeably. "Which reminds me…" He shuffled beneath his cloak, searching for something as I waited with a raised eyebrow. Finally, his hand emerged, holding a golden ring. In the center an emerald sparkled. "In case I don't see you before your birthday."

It sparkled in the twilight as Lucas placed it in my palm. "It's…"

"It's a special ring. Dennis and I both thought deeply about your gift. We both pitched in. It's very special…you must wear it at all times."

Smiling, I slipped the ring on. "How could I not?" I gave my brother a small hug. "Thank you. And I'll be sure to tell Dennis the same."

"Well, it's a special birthday. We were eighteen when-"

"I know, Lucas." I sighed. "I just…_don't_ know."

He patted my shoulder. "When the time comes, you'll know." Then he yawned, gazing at the stars. "It's getting late. You'll be okay getting home?"

Lucas always asked the same question when I'd leave, and as usual, I nodded.

Slowly I stood, allowing the blood to flow back into my legs. I rubbed my behind. "Tell your superiors you need more comfortable steps."

Lucas laughed as he stood. "Be careful out there. The darkness can't hide you forever."

I pulled my cloak tighter, my hood easily covering my face. "I blame the sun."

With a final hug I set off. Lucas watched from the doorstep until I turned the corner.

Stormwind was always dead when I began my journey back to our cottage. It was always outside of Stormwind I grew cautious. Respect for the unknown. Stormwind was normally a safe haven prior to journeying into the woods.

Not on that particular night.

I was near the heart of the city. Silently I turned a sharp corner into a familiar alleyway, cloak billowing behind me. It was my style. I traveled where the darkness hid me best.

Except I happened to run right into a thug townsman. He seemed shocked, at first, of my presence on the street. And I was surprised, too. I should have been able to sense him before he was right at the tip of my nose.

I sensed another person behind me before the man in front of me could even see them. The pair didn't seem very welcoming, to say the least. "Sorry." I tried to mumble politely and step aside and continue on my way, but the man before me snatched my right wrist.

"Look, Jacks! Pretty girl has some pretty lit'l trinkets!"

I winced, trying to suppress my gag reflex. Too easily could I smell the booze on the man's breath.

"Does she?" Inwardly I cursed my luck. Man number one reached for my new ring, but I writhed my hand away.

"No, please!" I begged. My back bumped into what I assumed to be man number two's chest. "Anything but my ring! You don't even want this worthless thing my grandmother gave me. Isn't valuable except for its many memories!"

"Missy, remove the ring," he grinned, looking me up and down, "and anything else worth something to a couple of blokes. Or we'll remove what we see fit."

To keep my bottom lip from quivering, I bit down on it. I had been pretty calm until both men moved in even closer.

I began to panic. My throat was suddenly dry, but the presence of cold sweat arrived on the nape of my neck.

I was ready to surrender and merely hope for the best, but a noise behind me caught the attention of both. The pair seemed very distracted, and I took the opportunity to sigh dramatically. I inconspicuously removed the ring and placed it safely in my pocket. "Fine. It's all I have, but…" I pretended to toss the ring high into the air. "You'll have to fight for it!"

Both men, incredibly drunk, leapt up, clawing each other as if it'd get them up higher.

Before the pair could realize my trick, I broke into a run. I slipped my hood back on, silently galloping along the narrow alley.

Scuffled footsteps could be heard behind me. A stack of crates to the left were a perfect boost, and it only took a bit of upper body strength to pull myself onto the roof of a nearby building. Then I laid flat, laying low as I listened to the pair argue about which way I'd gone.

When it was clear, I could finally exhale. The relief was cut short—a voice alerted me that I still wasn't alone: "That was well done."

I tried to scamper onto my feet, but the angle of the roof was too steep and I only succeeded in looking ridiculous. "Who's there?" I called out. Normally I could pinpoint a person's location, but this time I couldn't.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was masculine, but heavily articulate. My eyes continued to scan the dark of the roof.

"Then show yourself," I argued, finally able to find my footing and managing a half-slump with my back scraped against the large shingles.

Before I could blink, the man's figure became visible. He stood at the roof's apex, perfectly balanced and at ease. He wasn't a heavily built man, but I could see from his silhouette that he was sculpted and toned.

"That was very impressive back there," he began smoothly. I squinted—I couldn't tell if he was even looking at me. "It takes a quick thinker to escape such a predicament."

"It was cowardly," I corrected.

"It was survivability," he countered. I didn't bother hiding my anticipation.

"What do you want?" I asked. "I have no money, and if you try to hurt me, I'll scream."

"Calm down, girl." I frowned. "Trust me. If I wanted your money or other belongings, I could slip by and pick pocket you without your noticing. And if I was going to hurt you," I swear I heard his smirk, "I would have already done so."

"Then what is it you want," I hissed. "Because normal people don't follow young women onto rooftops."

He took a step toward me, and I barely made out glimmering green eyes in the moonlight. "I'm not exactly normal. And neither are you."

"How quaint," I stated. "Not exactly the choice of words one should implement when wooing a woman, but I give you credit for originality."

My sarcasm didn't seem to phase the man. "I do not intend on wooing you. My only intent is to get you to…consider…a small proposal of mine."

"Marriage? This soon?" Now I was only determined to break his demure façade. "My apologies, sir, but I don't even know your name!"

He released a chuckle of amusement. "This proposal of mine is a bit more…dynamic."

My eyebrows furrowed. "How so?"

"I wish to give you an opportunity to be an initiate of SI:7."

I paused. "SI:7?"

The young man nodded. "I've watched you off and on the past week…"

"Stalker," I mumbled.

"…and I've noticed that you carry many natural talents required to be a member of the rogue class of the Alliance."

My face fell. "A rogue?" I repeated.

"Yes. It's a different class, indeed. Rogues-"

"I know of your class," I interrupted. "I have two loved ones in the ranks. They've explained every class to me. Rogues are the dirty class. They rely on trickery."

"The same trickery you yourself have used?" he countered. "Rogues rely on perception and deception. Are you familiar with the current war?"

I nodded. "I'm far too familiar," I replied cynically.

"Each class has its dirty tricks," he stated smoothly. "SI:7 is in great need of skilled rogues. Your abilities in stealth are natural, and only require advancement. Normally it takes recruits weeks to learn what you already do naturally."

"You want _me_…to be a rogue?" I asked.

"I only ask you consider it," he answered. "It won't be easy. Rogues are the force that moves in before the front line. We're on the battlefield before the enemy even knows there's a fight."

"It's a dangerous trade," I surmised.

"Rogues are like poison on the tip of a sword. The enemy doesn't realize the danger until it's too late, and the damage is already done."

"Do you always go out of your way and glorify the rogue class for potential recruits?" I asked.

"Normally I don't have to. Potential recruits come to me."

"But I'm an exception."

"Precisely. I'd like you to think over the matter, and meet me tomorrow. Same time."

"Where?" I asked.

"I'll find you," he replied simply, shifting his weight. He seemed ready to dismount off his perch, but he turned suddenly to face me again. "Oh, and by the way, it's Zen."

I blinked. "What?"

"My name. It's Zen."

I cocked an eyebrow. "I'm Grace."

He nodded as if in approval, then bowed slightly. "Grace."

Zen disappeared, leaving me alone on the roof with my small puffs of breath. The way he said my name sounded smooth, as if it was a mystery, an idea left incomplete. It made me feel like he was still around, still watching, and for a few moments I simply stayed put, listening to my surroundings. I still wasn't convinced Zen was gone when I did jump off the roof and finish my journey home.


	2. Grace, Pt 2

**Grace**

**Book One, Part Two**

It would be quite the understatement to write that I tossed and turned that night. The concept all together should have been overlooked by a girl such as me. A normal girl would have never roamed the dark streets again.

Except, according to Zen, I wasn't normal.

Joining SI:7 actually excited me—I found myself drawn to the rogue's position. If I was good at it, why not make the most of it? I'd be aiding in this war my very own way, using my special talents to seek revenge. I'd follow everyone's footsteps. Father's, Lucas', Dennis'…

The only thing holding me back was that I'd be leaving behind a family. A mother who loved me and a brother who needed me.

But I wanted it badly.

Seeing my brother the following night was relieving. He was much more than a brother. Lucas was a friend, confidant, and guardian. I explained everything to him—I talked that night more than I had the previous two years. When I had finished, Lucas seemed interested. "Rogue's are an interesting class," he finally stated. "It definitely takes a different mindset…"

"A person very dear to me once asked if I was upset enough to cry or angry enough to act. Lucas, I'm tired of crying."

His lips tightened into a wince. "You're to clever for your own good, do you know that?"

I grinned. "I learned from the best."

Dennis had a similar reaction, then he pursed his lips, looking me over. "My little girl a sinister rogue? Hmmm…" His face clenched in thought. "You know, when I was gifted with the Light, I kind of took you as a priestess type. But a rogue…"

But ultimately he approved. We conversed for a few more minutes before I stole a glance at the moon. "I have to go, Dennis. I have to talk to Zen."

"Zen?" he repeated.

"That's his name. Zen."

"Oh." Dennis' face contorted in confusion. "Who the hell names their son Zen?"

Suppressing a giggle, I stood. "When I get the chance, I'll ask him."

"Good. And tell him he'd better be watching you! If I learn that you get hurt or…"

"I know, Dennis. This is what I want. I want to fight alongside you and Lucas."

Dennis nodded, finally giving me a hug. "Follow your heart, Grace. We're behind you every step of the way."

My hood was again draped over my head, acting as a crown of darkness. It was yet another comfort zone of mine. Again I was off, creeping through the shadows. My best efforts were put forth to try to remain perceptive of my surroundings, but I found myself too submerged in adrenaline.

Partly an excitement of the unknown. Another part nerves because I was choosing to directly disobey (and ultimately disappoint and therefore disrespect) my mother.

Zen mentioned the night previous that he'd find me. Minutes rolled by as I roamed the city. Luckily Stormwind was a decent size, and it gave me an opportunity to venture into new grounds.

When I had passed the same homeless peasant for a second time, I began to grow impatient. I grinned as I attempted to blend into an especially black corner.

Fine. If Zen wanted me to wait, then I may as well make his job more difficult. As quickly and quietly as I possibly could, I paced through the city, staying along building walls and slipping into alleyways I didn't even know existed.

In fact, I was so determined to confuse Zen that I ended up confusing myself. Somehow I wound up in the Cathedral Square. Perhaps that was a bonus during my little escapade—after all, how many rogues would honestly enter the Cathedral willingly?

I tried to stay cloaked within shadows as I strode down the main hall, but it seemed useless. Candles painted glimpses of gold across stone walls, and I could probably be easily spotted.

That was okay though. Zen would not likely look here. I pursed my lips. Unless, of course, he'd been following this whole time, merely observing. Scoffing, I continued my way with a bit more haste.

I was paranoid.

As I journeyed along, I grew confused. The building was large. A smaller room to the left led to dark hallways, lined with naked candles. If the Cathedral wasn't a holy place, I would have been more concerned. The creepiness of the surroundings was almost unsettling.

I nearly slipped when the pathway suddenly morphed into a declining spiral. The tunnel as small, the musky smell of stone and dust seemingly rising from a lower level.

My movements were much slower now and near cautionary. Curiosity fueled my trek instead of a spite for Zen.

The strange path finally leveled off, but part of me had wished it hadn't. In this barely lit room was a mess of cobwebs, statues, and scattered bones. Skeletons seemed to litter the place. At first I wasn't convinced—I even tore my hood off to get a better look. But what seemed unreal were not. I grimaced, body absent-mindedly backing into the nearest wall.

Exactly what was this place? And what was it doing in the basement of the cathedral?

I probably wouldn't want to know, I decided, and I turned to leave the way I came. Only to be a touch away from a chin. In shock I reeled back, the darkness suddenly a very unfriendly place.

"Don't you know a rogue's place isn't in the cathedral?" the figure asked. I exhaled in relief as I recognized the voice.

"Don't you know that's exactly why I came here?" I retorted. I could barely make out Zen's face. His familiar green eyes, however, did glint with amusement. "Besides," I added, "I'm not a rogue."

"Not yet, at least," Zen commented nonchalantly. His eyes drew to slits. "Which is why we're here, I believe. Well," he looked around. "Not quite taken with the meeting place, but I _did _tell you _I _would find _you_. Perhaps I left myself…open for interpretation."

"I grew restless," I muttered.

"I must admit, I'd lost you for a brief moment. Saw you trampling up those cathedral stairs, though."

My eyebrows rose. "You've been following the entire time? Impossible."

Zen's hands came up, in an effort to shrug at himself. "Rogue."

I scoffed, looking around at my cozy surroundings. "Stalker." He let loose a chuckle, apparently accustomed to such a remark.

"So, Stacy-"

"Grace."

"Grace." His smile, if possible, widened. "As I promised, I've found you. And you stayed along the city's streets…for the most part." Zen's eyes scanned the creepy skeletons strewn about. "Can I presume you intend on joining the ranks of SI:7?"

I pursed my lips in thought. "I'm not fully sure yet. You said I could think it over."

"Over the day. I was seeking your decision tonight."

"Well I don't have a decision for you yet," I answered honestly, confusion bleeding through my words.

Zen concentrated a lethal stare onto me. I shifted uncomfortably. "It's a simple yes or no answer."

"But it's not a simple question!" I retaliated, throwing my hands in the air. "You don't know my history. What my family has been through-"

"Pause right there," Zen stated, eyes now on the ground between us. Maybe it was his lack of a stare, or the dark aura that started to glaze his body. Whatever made me do it, I clipped my mouth shut. "Each person in this war has their own tragic story. Some more perilous, some more horrific. But they're _all _tragic. We function as one unit—whether rogue, mage, warrior—because we each have a story of pain. Anguish. It's our common thread we share as humanity."

Words ran through my head. I could've retorted. Could've apologized.

I said nothing. I only paused, breathing shallowly as I thought of my dilemma. Finally I squeezed my eyes shut, liquid making them burn. "I just don't know."

"You want to say yes. So who is stopping you?" Zen asked rather bluntly. He didn't seem amused anymore. Only frustrated.

Apparently Zen truly wanted me in.

"It's my mother," I answered.

The rogue paused, then he sighed in defeat. "A mother," he repeated in a mutter. "Normally I can rid of nuisances with a dash of poison. But of course it's complicated. This is even worse. Your case doesn't cease to have its share of fickle."

I half laughed, still mulling over my decision. What I wanted was what my mother feared the most. In her eyes, I'd be better off marrying the bum down the street and running away to Kalimdor.

That thought gave me the half of a laugh I had been missing.

Zen drew closer to me, and I briefly caught a glimpse of thin lips in the light. "That is, unless you would prefer that method. If she's the bane of your existence I could fix it-"

"No!" I snapped. "That's ridiculous!"

"I've had some fairly odd requests. They far surpass what you consider ridiculous."

"I love my mother. That's the only reason I can't say yes."

Another pause. Then Zen blinked, taking my arm in a flash. "Come."

"What?" I asked loudly as Zen pulled us toward the doorway. "Where?"

"To SI:7."

My knees locked in an attempt to halt our progress, but it did nothing to aid my predicament. "But I haven't agreed yet! You can't recruit me against my will!"

"Well, it's not _your_ will we're worried about, is it?"

"But my mother-"

"We'll take care of your mother."

If possible, my eyes widened further. "No! What is with you? Kidnapping me and threatening my mother's life…"

"You're jumping to conclusions, girl," Zen stated. Swiftly he pulled me through the streets. "You need to remember that we're on the same side." A sharp left turn as I tried not to get my shoulder slammed into a corner. "Nothing should stop your desires. You shall make it a point to speak to your mother. Promptly."

His determination made my chest tighten as I gazed at Zen's lock on my arm. Then I looked away, forcing my eyes to the cobblestone.

"Now, could you stop being a hassle and pick up your feet?"

Trying to push thoughts of my mother's reaction away, I followed his request. It didn't quell the feeling of nausea, however.

Before I had time to realize it, we arrived at SI:7. Like the rest of Stormwind, it was shrouded in darkness. But it felt different, as if the building itself had secrets. Perhaps they're hiding dead bodies, I mused, of potential pupils who refused to obey.

We took necessary turns in order to reach what seemed to be the heart of the building—a sort of welcoming center with a slight lack in the 'welcoming' department.

It wasn't the look—the setting was definitely reminisce of a cozy home, complete with a hearth. It was a feel, as if you were walking into unknown territory, and you couldn't enter with presumptions.

And that's how SI:7 wants you to feel.

"Now what?" I asked as Zen released his grip. He didn't lift his stare.

"A tour. We may even run into my superiors at some point."

I chuckled. "You have superiors?"

"Plenty of them." Then he scowled as he recognized my amused laugh. "Why? What's so funny?"

"You just don't seem the type to listen to superiors," I answered honestly. Zen scoffed.

We began our tour. There really wasn't much to see, and when I mentioned this, Zen had an explanation. "Most of our operation is hidden. The better you become, the more you learn. Makes it harder for spies and traitors to infiltrate that way."

I didn't say it was informative.

"Where are the rooms?" I asked.

Zen's face contorted. "Rooms?"

"Yes, you know—quarters? For the trainees? My brother's a warrior trainee. He rooms with others like him. My friend's a paladin. He does the same."

"Oh." Zen smirked. "Well, our branch is more individualistic. You'll be housed with your instructor."

"…You?" I asked, a blush rising to my cheeks. Apparently darkness hid rogues, as well as their immature thoughts.

"No." I pursed my lips, slightly disappointed. I was beginning to warm up to his arrogant mysteriousness.

It wasn't long before Zen had finished his grand tour with a final turn towards me. "So that's SI:7. Ready to begin?" Zen asked eagerly. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Already?"

"We're desperate for talent such as yours. You can start in the morning with Aradar. Your answer is yes, correct?"

I took a step back. "No, not yet. I still have to explain all of this to my mother and convince her that killing me won't resolve the issue. I need time."

Zen huffed, a graceful hand combing his bangs aside. "I shall speak with your mother."

"No," I stated. "I'll do it. I have to do it."

"Okay, then. Meet me here tomorrow."

I snorted in disbelief. "Tomorrow?"

"Fine. Two days," he snapped in agitation. "But remember—we need you in. I'll do anything in my power for it to be so…aside from poisoning your mother, as promised," he added as I shot him a look of incredulity.

I nodded, noticing the sliver of gold in the horizon that promised a sunrise. "I understand. But I'm just not sure yet."

The rogue's lips tightened until he finally grimaced. "Two days. Same time. Same place."

"The Cathedral?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, you've seemed to have taken a liking to it." I half chuckled, taking the opportunity to raise my hood.

"The Cathedral of Light. How fitting we hide in its darkness."

"See?" Zen called as I plodded down the steps. "You are a rogue. You just can't admit it." A reply of wit wouldn't form on my lips, but I managed a smirk as I disappeared into the darkness.

Another sleepless night. By the time I had arrived at our small house, dawn was settling in. I wasn't expecting any form of rest in the time I had left before my mother awakened.

Seeing SI:7's operations shot a sense of eagerness through my blood. I could be a part of something bigger than me. Like Lucas and Dennis.

I sat at our old kitchen table, sweaty hands fidgeting. Mother would be up soon, and this was not one of those moments I could stealth around. No waiting. I had to speak to her as soon as possible.

But that didn't mean I wanted to break the news and watch the light fade from her eyes. I exhaled slowly. I was obviously so positive about the entire experience.

Shuffling was heard from behind me, where my mother had slept. I didn't bother looking behind, in fear of seeing my mother and opting to forget I ever wanted to mention my cause.

"Grace?" My eyes shut in concentration. This was going to be harder than anticipated. "Why are you up so early?"

"I didn't sleep. Just got home, actually." I heard my mother's bare feet pad around the table, and then my mom was in front of me, hands reaching the table like she had rushed to my aid.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Her eyes widened. "Is it Lucas? Is he okay?"

"Lucas is fine," I answered assuredly. "I was approached by an alliance officer last night."

Eyes steadily on me, my mother's only movement was a tense in her neck. "And?" It sounded like it hurt her to utter anything.

"And…they want me to join." Her façade fell, body slumped with the weight of anxiety. She sat, face immediately hidden within her hands. "Mother…"

"My children..." She mourned as if our lives were lost in battle already. I attempted to comfort her with a touch of my hand, but she writhed away from contact. "No," she demanded, a slight hint of rage tainting her statement.

I waited, trying to muster a thought on what to do. "Mother," I tried again, "I want to talk about it…"

"Like your brother did?" she hissed, eyes finally piercing. I almost swayed away from the anger she was blatantly emitting.

A mother's wrath is a force many cannot contend with. It's a mix of rage, fury, over-protectiveness, defensiveness—and they all mix and funnel because of a factor I consider _motherly instinct._

She was losing another child. She realized that, and she punished me for it. No extra chores, no beating. My mother refused to talk to me, touch me, even look at me. Silently she tore out of the room, beginning her daily tasks. The rest of the day we remained as such.

As well as the next day. Many times I attempted to get her attention. Ironic that as a rogue I'm trained to slip under someone's attention, and that it was the last thing I wanted in this critical moment.

My mother knew I didn't have the gall to leave without a single ounce of her approval. I was trapped, teetering on my own mother's anguish and stubbornness.

The second night came and left. I felt sick, not being able to meet Zen as promised. Was I to lose my place in SI:7?

And I was beginning to feel out-of-place. I couldn't eat—the silence at dinner ruined my appetite. I couldn't sleep—I didn't wish to sleep in the same room as a mother who was completely disappointed in her daughter. Stress took over my body, and by the fourth day after my news, I was pale and light-headed.

I was supposed to carry a pile of chopped wood inside. Normally, I was more-than-capable of such a load. But I was exhausted. I stumbled in the doorway, and before I could catch myself the pile had slipped out of my grasp. I fumbled after the logs, forehead colliding into the corner of the table. After the clatter had died down did I notice my mother in the doorway leading to the bedroom, hand at her mouth.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered, attempting to reach for some of the pieces that landed near me. A thick warmth was beginning to settle on the top of my forehead, but I was able to blink away the blurriness. I hadn't realized my mother approached me until her hands clasped my cheeks, and I saw her kneeling in front of me.

"_I'm _sorry," she whispered. Her hands were cold, and I shuddered. "Look at my Grace. Look what I've done to you."

I grew speechless. "Mom-" She stifled a cry at my word, and her hand had to push away tears that now fell relentlessly.

"You're just like your father," she managed through her cries. "Why couldn't I just admit that?"

"It's okay."

"But you have to see, Grace," she insisted, eyes landing on mine. Hers were moist and red. "I'm losing my entire family to this war. I'm going to rot away here…" I opened my mouth to argue, but she shook her head. "But I can't have my daughter rotting either. Sometimes I miss your father so much…"

"My father died a noble cause. He defended our land, and in doing so promised us a future. Can't you understand that I want the same?" I asked quietly, barely able to concentrate except for my determination.

"Do you want to end the same?" she countered with fear. I withdrew slightly.

"I'll do what I must. I need to be sure my father didn't die in vain. Someone has to finish what he started."

"My two eldest…" My mother's hand covered a trembling lip. She stifled a chuckle. "Unfortunately, my two eldest acquired my husband's hard-headedness." She sighed, her tears ceasing to cause racking shoulders but still able to feed on her energy. "From a mother's perspective, I should be pulling my hair out and locking you in a cellar. From my husband's perspective…" My jaw clenched as my mother actually smiled. "He'd be proud."

At the mention of such, I attempted to crack a smile. My mother returned it as her hand fell onto mine. "The choice is yours, Grace. If you wish to fill your father's shoes, do so. But it's not easy."

"I'm ready to accept the consequences," I replied. "I only wish I could take away the suffering you feel."

"Don't worry, I'll be here," my mother ensured. "You'll always have a place here. Just like your brother."

"He'll be happy to hear that."

"He's my son no matter what," my mother added. I smiled in relief, now content with my exhaustion. It had worked out after all. "So you are going?" asked the older woman. "I'd hoped you and your brother were just going through a phase of sorts. All the hype about your father..."

"Even if he was alive today, I think I'd still want to go. The rogue class needs me."

"Rogue?" Mother choked on her surprise. "As assassin? My daughter?"

"They came to me for help," I said. "They said I'd be good."

"Of course you will, you're a Fulstorm." I blinked in an attempt to rid of some exhaustion. "Let's mend that wound of yours, so you can get some rest. I know sleep deprivation when I see it."

"What about the chores?"

"Later."

I blinked, finally focused on the pain that began to settle near my temple.

She washed the gash on my forehead, then covering it with a bit of bandage. When the mending was finished, I hugged my caregiver. "Thanks, mom."

"For what?"

Smiling, I pulled away and fumbled to my bedroom. "For everything."

I slept better than I had in ages. My mother accepted my decision—she didn't want me to go, but she realized the importance it had to me and Lucas. Sleep was deep. I didn't awaken until late afternoon the following day, but I had never been so enthused about daily chores.

With the action going on around the house, I had forgotten the date. My mother already had a lunch prepared, she and Matthew setting the table. "Happy birthday, Grace," my mother cooed. It was our most animated meal since Lucas' departure.

Eighteen years old, with the blessing of her mother to chase my dream. I was happy, relieved, free of nervousness and deceit. It was replaced by a slight throb in my forehead.

Mother noticed my change in mood. She didn't say anything, but she wore that motherly grin that meant "I know what's going on."

She let me leave that night. I was propelled by excitement, and nervousness—would Zen be waiting? Or had he given up hope?

I told Dennis, who after giving me a massive birthday hug gave me a warning that went something like "From now on you stay in my line of sight."

My brother's reaction was similar, but I also told him about mother's breakthrough. I'd never seen him smile so wide.

"Are you going to seek Zen?" he finally asked.

I nodded. "Hopefully I won't have to," I answered. "But give me an hour on the streets of Stormwind."

Lucas snorted. "My sister roaming the streets at night. How comforting."

"Anyone else and it wouldn't be," I retorted seriously.

I bade Lucas goodnight rather early. Again I was sweeping the city, looking for Zen and at the same time waiting for him to find me.

The moon cast a dazzling reflection on the waters of the canals. I could have mistaken it for the real thing. Somehow I ended up standing upon a makeshift dock, my entire attention somehow drawn to the image.

The moon. Un-phased by the black of night. A hopeful icon that promised the return of daylight. It was a beautiful scene—I couldn't ask for a better backdrop for my birthday.

"You're waiting." Zen's voice was easily recognizable now—it was incredibly smooth and had the potential to be soothing, but his articulation broke the effect. "And I'm hoping it's not for those two drunkards you made friends with a few nights ago."

"You know, if this was a secret lover's tryst, you'd sound much more alluring. That's the best you have to keep me around?"

I didn't bother turning. I could see Zen's dark figure in the water's reflection. "It's a shame this_ isn't_ a tryst, isn't it."

I scowled. "The sarcasm isn't appreciated. I thought your job was to get me to join. You're not doing much good."

Zen tried to read me—I knew this because of the silence. He was trying to read what had happening, and whether I still had the desire to be a rogue.

"I gave you two days," he began, trying to open the issue up for interpretation. "Is there a reason we're standing here two days after the deadline?"

I suppressed a smirk. "Had difficulties. I would have come earlier if I could. I would have been perfectly content with standing alone until you came along."

"You were waiting."

"We're all waiting," I countered. "For redemption, salvation—for any notion of change." I paused, finally turning to face Zen. His eyes automatically caught the gash decorating my forehead. "I'm tired of waiting. I'm ready to make a difference."

He paused, gaze dropping from my wound to my eyes. Zen was doing it again—analyzing me. My fears, emotions, desires… "You were hurt," he stated bluntly.

My fingers grazed the stitches. "It was…a difficult few days with my mother. My energy was so zapped that I nearly fainted. I'm back, though, and ready for action. When do I start?"

A smile finally appeared on Zen's lips. "Excellent. You start tomorrow. Meet me in the lobby of SI:7 at dawn."

I blinked. "D-dawn?"

"Start committing now," Zen encouraged as he turned and stepped off the dock with heavy thuds. "You _are _committed, aren't you?"

I glared, but he obviously couldn't hear such a combat.


	3. Aradar

**Aradar**

**Book Two, Part One**

I began my training in March, when the sun began to make appearances as well as the rain. The next morning I arrived on time. I was scaling the steps up to SI:7 when Zen met me at the top. His features were obvious for the first time, ever since I met him. His jaw was sharp, but it was balanced out by thin lips and eyes that seemed soft but contained intensity. His hair, obvious even in the nighttime darkness, was a distraction in the sun as his blonde hair seemed nearly silver. Even in his body language I read his sense of cunningness and fearlessness. Zen's green eyes remained on me as he smiled thinly. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Even as I said it I held back a yawn.

"Ready to meet your trainer?" he asked, turning toward the entrance. A figure sat inside near the fire, a blade in his hands as he sharpened it. "Aradar," Zen began, and the man in question turned to the two of us.

"Marvelous," he mentioned energetically. "My new student!" I smiled loosely, nervousness inhibiting a cheerful grin. "I suppose we can get started."

Zen nodded, then bowed slightly to me in farewell. "Good luck."

Aradar was older—his hairline was beginning to recede, but his grin seemed locked in place. It was strikingly odd to be considering him my rogue trainer—he was much more pleasant than Zen.

He took me to the library for our first lesson. "I have an assignment for you," he began as we paced through endless aisles of books and scrolls. "Your first assignment is to find as much information as you can on the rogue class. It's origin, style, founders—anything. You'll be presenting me with ten pages of parchment discussing what you've found, and I'd also like a presentation—just to be sure you were accumulating the information."

I tried not to look as shocked as I felt. "By when?" I asked.

"Nightfall." He winked, then walked nonchalantly out of the aisle and out of the building. When his presence disappeared, it gave my nerves time to process panic. My eyes scanned the thousands of sources, breath stuck in m lungs.

I wanted this. I wanted so badly to impress my instructor and do the best I possibly could. I inhaled, attempting to clear my thoughts.

And then I set off. I sifted through histories of humans, of Stormwind, and then of every other race. And I found nothing. Then I attempted a search for general guides on war—the classes, strategies, anything. The best I found as a snippet like this:

_At times the people of Stormwind have made decisions to act preemptively with skilled soldiers capable of slipping through lines undetected. Following this step is the line of offensive, generally…_

Hopelessly, I stopped reading there, but nonetheless held on to the book.

Noon arrived too quickly, and I still hadn't found much of anything past "Battalions sometimes find it necessary to hire people who have a knack for sneaking past enemies."

I found a few more key words here and there in my searching: infiltration, deception. Trickery. Invisibility. Each time I grew excited, but the source never proved to be viable.

Panic never escaped me. I felt rushed into a dead end. I couldn't screw this up. My first assignment and I still couldn't pull through. And it wasn't even a physical test! This should have been my strong point!

Eventually, I collapsed onto a chair, head falling onto the desk. I almost gave up. I nearly scaled every single aisle, every shelf, every title I could possibly fathom…

But I put some more thought into it. Rogues were cunning. Maybe the books were hidden—by the teacher or otherwise—but where?

I picked my heavy forehead off the wooden table. Did the library have a basement?

It made sense in my unstable mind. Basements were ominous. Dark. Mysterious. Perhaps I was meant to think like a rogue. I sprang up, immediately on the prowl as I scooped up my useless books for stairs leading down.

Amazingly, I found some. I practically flew down the spiral steps, nearly slipping over a displaced stone on the way. Without much success I tried to contain my excitement, because a feeble old man was wandering in the basement…but there were books! Two sections were placed along the wall. The elder man gave me a curious gaze as I approached the heart of the room.

My eyes quickly scanned numerous titles, and I gathered an idea of why these books were so distanced from the others.

"Murderous Up-rise: Scandals of the Century? The Holocaust of Happiness? Torture Used in Modern Interrogation…Why the Alliance Shall Fall…"

The volumes were scandalous, although not necessarily hidden. It would be awful to have a child stumble upon these.

My eyes landed on a larger novel. The spine read _Tactical Warfare_. It was worth a glance-over, I decided. I pulled out the thick book, and it was heavier than expected. Perplexed, I dragged it to the lone table, which looked dilapidated and wobbled as I set my discovery down. Why was a seemingly innocent book like this shunned to the isolation of the basement?

The pages were brittle. I flipped the first page, and was met with an image of a broken down bridge. Dead bodies were strewn about, disfigured and bloody. The title of the painting graced the bottom of the page.

I was horrified of the picture. I didn't want to continue reading, but I turned the page so the image would disappear.

Soon I discovered why the book was down there. It wasn't a source on tactical warfare, like if someone needed a better understanding on the subject. It was a documentary of different tactics the Alliance had used in the past, complete with gruesome graphics much like the first.

Rogues were a huge piece of such warfare—so why didn't the fact rise in this book? Why was this source just as useless as the rest?

At some point I grew so frustrated that I turned a page and ended up tearing it off its binding. Regrettably I set the leaflet into its proper spot, being sure to tuck the fragile piece in as snuggly as possible before setting the book into my hopeless pile.

More of nothing. This assignment was impossible.

Or maybe the way I had approached it was completely wrong. Did I miss some underlying message? Was my teacher expecting too much from me?

Or, I thought as my jaw clenched, maybe it only proved I'm not meant to be here. Not meant to be a rogue…

With less vigor, I continued searching. If I was correct, this was some twisted test I was being put through, and I had already failed. There was no chance of me finding any information (maybe because I couldn't think as a rogue). The end was unavoidable.

I set my few books on a table on the ground floor. The room was darkening; the sun was hidden on the opposite side of the library. It was dusk. And it was hopeless. I had mutilated any chance I had getting into the program. Perhaps I was meant to cook and clean my entire life. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it just wasn't my style.

I wasn't born for a normal life. I realized that, even as I sat there aimlessly at the desk. Even as Aradar waltzed towards my stupor with that eerily cheerful grin of his.

"My student!" It made me wince. I sure was the ideal student after today, wasn't I? "I hope your presentation is set among the same degree of my amazing past students."

If I broke down crying, would he give me pity points?

Instead, I kept my eyes to the floor, ashamed. "There is no presentation. Or paper."

When my statement was met with silence, I forced a glance upwards. He was still grinning—it scared me. Was this the part where he says, "It's okay, all of my students failed and got kicked out of SI:7?"

"I see. Nothing at all?" he inquired.

"I found books!" I offered, holding them out as if it would absolve my failure.

"Well, let's see." He sat down to my right as I hurriedly broke open the first book I touched.

"W-well," I took a short breath, "this one discussed degrees of subtlety of warfare, but not one time did it mention the word rogue." I sighed. "_None _of them mention the word rogue."

His hand gripped the corner of the cover, pulling it off the other few books I salvaged. He glanced over the titles, then nodded curtly. "Good." I felt my eyebrow perk in question. "Better than most. What's this?" he asked, attempting to pull the book I had found in the basement toward him.

"Better?" I repeated. "I didn't even write anything…"

"Interesting. I've never seen this source before…" With actual curiosity he flipped through the delicate pages, then stopping as he arrived on the page I had angrily torn out prior. I was growing confusingly anxious. Didn't he understand I had failed? Getting an interesting source was worthless if I could find nothing else of use.

"A…Aradar…" Saying his name felt awkward on my lips, so I quickly uttered, "Sir." When gray eyes left the abused page, he seemed surprised. "I didn't complete the assignment."

Aradar smiled. "None of my students do. Some try plowing through a paper with no sources, but that's more disappointing than no paper at all. This is my first lesson, dear." His eyes twinkled. "You're not meant to find any information on rogues, because there _isn't _any information on them."

I eyed him curiously. "Then…the lesson was meant to…?"

"Simply introduce you to the style of our class. There's no information on rogues because our class is secretive. It's a subtlety class, and it can't be traced in lifeless pages." He leaned in. "We're _that _good," he whispered with a wink.

"So…I'm not in trouble?" I asked carefully.

"Far from it. It seems like you really put forth an effort trying to figure out the assignment. Very promising. And this book—where'd you find it?"

The book on tactical warfare remained near Aradar, the torn page within his grip. "The basement," I answered, chuckling. "Sounds dumb, but I tried thinking as a rogue. Distant, dark. The basement was isolated. I figured it was my best guess."

"Clever." He furled the thin parchment in his hand, torn edge beginning to fringe. "This page is interesting." I peered over the page. It looked somewhat familiar. "Seems someone donated this book, because there's notes written in the margins…" His finger grazed over ink that had been forced into the margins of the page. Perhaps a paladin of sorts. ..many of these notes are based on the Light and its power."

We went to his quarters, which would be my new home, after that. Everything was settling in smoothly.

It was only the third day when my first confrontation occurred. Aradar had to run an errand through SI:7, and took me along before the beginning of our training. I waited near the fireplace, observing the knickknacks lining the hearth, as he made his way upstairs.

I was minding my own business. I was. A boy, perhaps a bit older than me, approached me with a smug look that emanated arrogance. "Hey," he began loudly. "My friends over there wanna know if you're training to be a rogue."

I glanced over at the 'friends.' Three other boys stood in a corner, eyeing me knowingly. Sighing, I then settled my gaze on the boy before me. "Yes," I answered bluntly.

The boy cursed, the group behind him bursting into hoots. I restrained the urge to gag at the display. "You owe all of us!" I heard out of the cheers.

I didn't really ask for an explanation, but the leader of the pack turned to me and offered it anyway. "I made a bet. I didn't believe they could let in a girl like you into SI:7. Apparently they've lowered the standards."

Grinning in disbelief, I crossed my arms in interest. "Really? Because I didn't think SI:7 allowed half-wits like you and your buddies in, either."

He laughed sarcastically, then leering at me as he closed in. "I could break you in half, girl."

"Try me." I opened my arms, daring him to move. He glared, seemingly ready to pounce, when Aradar arrived. Upon seeing our predicament, he cleared his throat loudly.

"What's going on here, Grace?" he asked, hands up in a peace offering.

"We're just having a civilized conversation," the boy answered. "See you later, _Grace_." I let my glare follow him back to his little group, even as Aradar escorted me out of SI:7.

"Something tells me that conversation was far from civilized," Aradar finally muttered.

"He thinks that because I'm a girl I shouldn't be a rogue," I filled him in with. "And I'm betting that's how most of them feel."

"Hey," he turned toward me, hands on my shoulders so I'd halt my pace. "Don't get discouraged. We're going to fix that attitude of theirs."

The first weeks of training with Aradar are smelted memories. It was a lot of basics. Rarely did we include any clip of physical combat in my training.

In fact, if I remember correctly, the entire first week, I ran. Jumped. Sprinted. Stretched. It was obviously meant to build up my strength, agility, stamina—but that didn't make the days less painstaking.

One day, after running for nearly an hour around the canals, I collapsed in exhaustion. My lungs shrieked for air, hands grasping cobblestones below me as if it'd dig up much-needed air. My leg muscles strained, a burn shot up the hamstrings.

Aradar was a funny character. He placed his hand on my back, and I felt ashamed for showing a sign of weakness.

Relentless. I had to be relentless. Had to become relentless.

It hurt to move, but I did so anyway. With difficultly I pulled myself up, Aradar following. Breath escaped my lungs in short huffs.

"I push you hard," Aradar began, a hand on my shoulder, "because you have amazing potential. Power starts with basic mechanics. You're a girl," I snorted, "but you'll have the perseverance of a bull. You _will _be a contender to the men in this sector. Brute strength won't get someone anywhere if they lack endurance or decisiveness. You'll have it all."

Nodding, I tried concentrating on his words and my consciousness.

I could do it. I could outwit.

He became a fatherly figure. He pushed me alright, and once I was capable of trotting the entire parameter of Stormwind a handful of times without shortness of breath did he sit me down.

"You're ready to learn the skills of a rogue," he announced. I smiled. "I have something to give you. One of the most important tools of a rogue."

I was expecting a beautiful dagger, sharp and ready for action. I threw open the brown sack he slid to me, only to find nameless pieces of metal, wire, and other tools. "What's this?"

"Thief's tools. Rogues are skilled in the subtle. It includes disarmament of traps, pick pocketing, and lock picking."

And thus, the first rogue skills I learned. I was able to unlock doors. Now, should I pick one of said locked doors, and a fleet of Undead charge me, I'd be screwed. But hey, at least I had the self-satisfaction of knowing I was able to pick that difficult lock holding such monsters at bay.

Surprisingly, lock picking took skill. It wasn't for the impatient. The adjustments had to be perfect if the lock was to pop open.

I stayed with Aradar in a small hut within Stormwind. It was small, but warm. The older man had a craze for fruit—there was always a bowl of fresh fruits set on his table.

We trained often, but every once in awhile I could take a break. I'd visit my mother as much as possible—near the beginning of my training it was often, but as I continued my visits grew scarce.

I loved visiting Dennis and Lucas. Dennis always made the day better. Even when his own body was soar and beaten, Dennis made sure _my _soreness was tended to first. Falling asleep in his arms was my best comfort—I felt wanted, accepted, even if I were to obliterate any hope of being a rogue, I could survive because Dennis told me so.

"It's okay if you're not the best. You will be," he announced.

My head was resting under his chin, and I had to cock my head to the side to see him. "How can you be so certain?" I asked curiously.

"I just am," he replied matter-of-factly. He tugged playfully at a piece of my bangs. "But don't plan on being an invincible rogue forever. We won't have time for the rest of our future!" he exclaimed dramatically.

I giggled. "I'll find time," I defended. "If I find time to see you now, I should be able to find time later as well."

"Good." His arms around me tightened. "Because I look forward to it too much."

My brother was growing stronger. Physically, he was built and highly muscular. Mentally, he was just as sturdy. Women were drawn to him—he never full-out admitted or boasted of such, but I caught the notions in his stories.

Meanwhile, I was finishing with the practice on thief's tools. Aradar announced that it was time to play a game. Despite Aradar's playful manner, I still grew leery. "A game?" I asked, unsure.

"Yes. The game: I have to find you." It was nighttime, and I knew immediately he was to train me on subtlety next. "No sanctuaries, but you must remain in Stormwind. I'll be chivalrous and lend you two minutes to get ahead. Go."

Withholding the urge to giggle, I set off. The last time I had played this was as a little girl. The idea seemed silly now.

Obviously, I had to stay in the darkness. It was a test of subtlety. I cocked my head to the side. Could the student really outwit the teacher?

Only one way to find out, I decided. But where to go?

I approached the choice logically, at first. Darkness. Had to hide where I could actually be hidden. But wouldn't he be expecting that from a new student? Could I hide somewhere more visible, and assume Aradar wouldn't look in such a place?"

I stopped near an alleyway, holding my breath. Or, maybe I as overanalyzing again. All I had to do was continue to move, and hope we didn't cross paths. Aradar would most likely stealth around as well, just to hike up the intensity a bit…

Consciously, I tried to remain subtle as I meddled through the city a bit. As I wandered, I felt my senses escalate into overdrive. I could hear conversations within inns, feel the temperature difference in and out of shadows. It was as if my mental state had dropped into an ocean, floating along but with heightened senses.

Maybe I had the capability to outdo my teacher after all.

I felt nearly invincible. A pair of young women, perhaps my age, giggled and scurried down the tunnel in night dresses. They didn't make any gesture signifying they saw me. I stood against the tunnel's cool wall, feet away, but the girls moved forward without a look my way.

Near the cathedral, I stopped to observe my surroundings. Aradar would skim every street, every alley. Perhaps roaming around our beginning area would be the safest place?

I remained in my stealth state as I moved towards the intended site, only to stop at a sudden noise coming form the adjacent alleyway. My eyebrows furrowed. Crying?

Quickly I arrived at the origin of the sound. I turned my head around the corner.

A young boy sat in the middle of a street, face hidden behind little knees. I watched him for a few moments, simply observing the boy. He seemed to be trying to stay silent, although his shoulders shook.

Finally I felt moved enough to step into the open. I pulled my hood off my head in an attempt to look less scary. Approaching the child, I noticed that he seemed to notice me as I crouched down to his level. He frowned, confused at my presence.

"Hello," I whispered, "I'm Grace."

"Hi," he croaked, hurriedly trying to wipe his eyes. "My name's Trent," he offered, voice still sore from crying.

"Can I ask you what's wrong?" I asked. "You're out in the middle of Stormwind all alone."

"My big brother left me here," he began. "He wanted to race but I tripped and fell and when I got up I was alone." His tears began again as I reacquainted him with the reasons behind his isolation.

"It's okay, Trent," I soothed. "Let's take you home. Do you remember where you live?"

He pouted, caught in thought. "Three houses from the bakery, with the red flowers and a candle in the window."

"Good, good," I encouraged. "Well, I know where the bakery is. Let's head over there, and you'll get more familiar with the surroundings."

The boy stood, eyes finally dry, and I turned to lead him home when Aradar's figure stood in the way. The challenge he had given me earlier had momentarily escaped my mind. His presence brought the idea forth again. "Well, that wasn't difficult."

"The boy needs my help," I began.

"I know," Aradar replied. "I put him there. It's my nephew." I paused, the child's hand still in mine.

Pursing my lips, the set-up hit me. "That was a trick to get me out of hiding…" I thought out loud.

"Precisely," Aradar answered.

"That was dirty," I commented with a scowl.

"Grace, you must be careful. The world is packed full of trickery. You gave away your position without a notion of thought."

"He needed my help!" I argued pointlessly. I was talking back to my teacher—was I crazy?

"And it was a trap."

"What if it wasn't?" I let go of the boys hand, hands flying to my hips in disbelief. "I couldn't just leave him there."

"When an instance such as this happens out there, your decision would cost an entire rank its position."

"I-" I lowered my head in defeat. "Sorry," I finally muttered. "It's my maternal instinct acting up. In the future I'll be more wary."

"It's not a mistake that defeats a human," Aradar mentioned. His nephew had approached his side, giving his uncle an affectionate squeeze. "It's a decision not to learn from it."

"I understand." Even though I still believed I had acted justly. But my teacher was right. I had acted without truly considering any scenarios that could happen.

"Now, I'd like you, Grace, to take Trent home. His mother is well aware of his whereabouts. While you do so, I shall hide, and it'll be your turn to find me. How does that sound?"

"Impossible," I answered honestly.

Aradar ruffled the child's hair before I escorted him home. His mother answered the door with a grin. "Grew impatient with finding you, did he?" she asked with a wink.

I grinned back at her. "Trent had me nervous for awhile. I take it this isn't the first time?"

"Students escort my son home when Aradar is hiding. That's usually because he's seeking reconciliation for his impatience."

Giggling, I managed a smile. "I'm glad I gave him a bit of a challenge."

"Bit of advice…" She leaned in a bit, taking her son in her arms. "He gets slightly…careless. You may be able to catch him. 'Bout time he took a sweet young lady under his wing."

"Well, thanks," I said, blushing slightly. "I have to go, though. He'll keep me out here all night if he could."

"Good luck," she bade. Nodding, I set off, leaving the third house from the bakery behind.

I had no idea where to look. There _was _no logic to this game. It was literally a shot in the dark. Where would Aradar think I wouldn't go?

I nearly chuckled. What a dumb question. If I knew the answer to that, then Aradar wouldn't consider it an option.

Best start skimming. Make my way to more familiar surroundings. Maybe his carelessness, with a mix of what I have coined "dis-logic," would be on my side.

I tried not to concentrate too hard. It would block my senses too much, and I couldn't afford to misinterpret important details.

Backtracking, I headed towards Aradar's small cottage. Circled around a bit. After quite a while of me wandering in the dark, I grew irritated. He was probably watching me, tracking me. Silently, I leaned against a wall near SI:7 as I fumed with irritation.

A pair of figures came pacing toward me. I considered slipping into the darkness, hidden, until I actually recognized one of them to be Zen. With a bit of relief I stepped into the moonlight.

He saw me with ease, and his raised eyebrow directed at me caused the other man beside him to stop chuckling and look at me, perplexed.

"Grace?" he began. The other man's eyes sized me up as I stepped forward a bit more.

"Zen."

He attempted to disguise a smile of amusement under a look of confusion. "Should I even ask what has you out and about at these hours?"

"One of Aradar's methods of teaching," I answered. "I'm supposed to seek him out." I looked over the pair, who wore their usual uniforms of dark. "And to what occasion can I thank for such a late tryst?" I asked playfully.

Zen shrugged nonchalantly. "Just a silly SI:7 meeting."

"In the middle of the night?"

"It's an important meeting," Zen mentioned with a stress in his words. Nodding, I tried to dismiss myself.

"Well, I should get to it," I announced with a slight nod of respect. They _were _my superiors, after all. And anything that made Zen quirk his eyebrow in befuddlement was any good a reason to act unnaturally graceful.

"Oh, and about Aradar…" Zen drew in, so close his mouth was inches from my neck. I tilted my head to try to stop the hairs on my neck from standing on end. "He tends to enjoy a little drink late at night…"

He pulled away, eyes locked on mine—the close gesture startled me, and his eyes didn't quell the feeling of unease. When he had returned to his place next to the other man, he winked.

Zen's buddy chuckled, eyes still on me. "Have a good night," Zen finally said, and the pair finally left towards SI:7.

For once, I was at a loss for words around Zen. What made me growl was the fact that he _enjoyed _doing that to me.

What a mysterious guy.

I couldn't complain though—if my assumptions were true, he had helped me.

I remember thinking to myself, trying to understand why Zen had helped. I couldn't quite understand, besides the fact that he had brought me into SI:7—a fallout on his recruit meant a fallout on him.

But it was a small glimpse of my training. Did my success matter at this point?

Either way, I couldn't really ignore his slight hint. Was my teacher really enjoying a round while I wandered around the streets?

I stepped into the inn, and could immediately hear the roars of entertainment erupting from the second floor.

Could've sworn that was Aradar's laugh. I climbed the stairs, and sure enough Aradar was seated at a table, other men surrounding him.

"Are you kidding? Jonathon wouldn't last a _day_ in the mage quarters-"

I must have looked as awkward as I felt, because Aradar easily spotted me as I came off the steps. "Grace!"

I cocked a smile. "Of all places…the bar of the inn?" I asked.

"How'd you find me?"

"Uh…" I looked behind me, towards the stairs. "Actually, I wasn't even planning on looking here. I was walking by when I heard your laugh from outside the inn." Not the entire truth, but it wasn't I lie either.

"Did you?" He grinned. "I suppose I should be more subtle. I didn't expect you so early!"

"Neither did I…" I muttered, scratching my head.

"Well, you're here," he stated. "And _I'm _here…what do you say we hang around a bit and relax?"

I eyed him suspiciously. "This isn't going to turn into one of your lessons, is it?"

He held his hands up in defense. "I promise, no lessons underneath. Rogue's honor."

"Rogue's honor?" I repeated.

"Oh, Grace. Stop analyzing everything. Come enjoy the evening."

I laughed loudly. "Well, if the teacher tells me to, I must comply."

Nothing entirely significant happened, but I remember feeling at ease, if only for the moment. We were able to bond, and it made me more comfortable around Aradar.

My first time I held a dagger was after fifty-three days with my teacher. It was a training weapon—I could have figured that out without Aradar's explanation.

It was heavy. I remember holding it in my palm, thinking of the damage it was capable of. Weapons like this defend our city. They protect and disarm. But they've taken away lives. Of enemies, friends—countless lives.

I was accepting a power. Scary, but invigorating.

"We start with daggers," Aradar announced. I grasped the weapon in my right hand. "You're smaller. I believe you can deliver the most damage with daggers. You'll learn swords eventually, but I don't want you bogged down from the start."

Basic stances and moves. I wanted to learn, and learn as much as possible. But I was a bit of a perfectionist—and Aradar stressing technique didn't aid in my quest for perfection. "One wrong step, and you're at the mercy of our enemies," Aradar would chant incessantly.

At one point after such an incident, I sliced at Aradar venomously, and he had to hop back quickly. "_What _mercy?" I asked rhetorically.

Learning combat put more realism into my goals. Suddenly, it felt real. I was on the road to becoming a rogue.

I really had to try my best at every moment. I zoned into my training, and learned the basic combat skills so fast that Aradar was forced to train me with two daggers to keep me challenged.

Dual wielding. It was brutally difficult. I often grew irritated with how awkward my left hand acted. "The left dagger is for support!" Aradar comforted. "Don't feel obligated to use it. Use it on a needed basis!"

I was constantly sore. Visits to Lucas and Dennis were my therapy—and sometimes I could even bargain a backrub or two.

Then Dennis got his apprenticeship, and had to travel often for long periods of time. Lucas began his apprenticeship as well, only ten days after.

Which meant I was pretty much without them. I felt isolated. Training managed to keep me relatively busy, but it made my time off that much more lonely.

Somehow, I pushed myself. Had to accept responsibilities that came with becoming a rogue—any and all. Sacrifice, because countless people had already so in the hopes that someday our children won't have to.

Aradar himself would gape sometimes when I would manage to disarm him or out-think him. I would simply giggle, of course. After such a moment, about ten weeks after a had began combat training, he breathlessly patted my back.

"You're ready for the next step," he said.

I had trouble catching my own breath. "And what's that?"

"SI:7 trainee missions."

I grabbed a gulp of water as Aradar and I slumped beneath a tree. "Sounds dangerous," I commented.

"The apprentice begins missions on his or her own. I'm still your mentor, but I am here for developmental purposes. The missions shall teach you far more than I can lecture about."

"What if I get into trouble?" I asked. "Get caught?"

"Your first bunch of missions are petty, no need to worry," Aradar soothed. "With your degree of mastery in subtlety, you won't have a problem."

"So, how do I start?" I asked after a long pause. Aradar grinned.

The next morning, my mentor practically pushed me out of bed, forced me to dress properly, and dragged me down to SI:7.

He led me to a room upstairs. "Do I get to meet the big boss?" I whispered. I meant to sound genuinely enthused, but the absence of the sun at the early hour scalded the words into sarcasm.

"Just an officer." We got off the stairs, and immediately there was a kind of office. A dark haired, older man sat at the desk, rustling through a stack of paperwork. When Aradar approached him, he cocked a regal eyebrow. "Officer Jared," Aradar greeted.

"Aradar. Have you news?"

"My pupil is ready for her introductory missions."

The man pursed his lips in amusement, eyes landing on me. "She...has proficiency…?"

"In all three pillars. Very cunning, and a master of subtlety."

The officer paused, then shrugging, turned to a wall behind him. Scrolls rested in little cubby holes, on three levels. I noticed the scroll the man handed to Aradar was tied together with a green ribbon. "Good luck, then," he mentioned with a nod to me. I bowed in farewell.

Aradar scanned the notations within the scroll as we descended, then handed it to me. "Suit up. And don't, by any means, lose that paperwork."

I fumbled with the parchment as we left SI:7. "What is it?"

"Your first mission."

As we hustled to the armory Aradar explained further. "There's three levels of trainee missions: green, yellow, red. Green is the easy responsibilities, usually civil issues within nearby villages. Normally speaking, they only have a potential for danger. Yellow is moderate—there's notable danger and risk. Red is severe. Obviously they're the most dangerous and challenging."

I read of my first task. Details escape me now, but I remember very well the final sentence: Seek out the whereabouts of Marie Scarlett and retrieve her diary, unbeknownst to her.

Marie was the daughter of a corporal in Stormwind. Since said corporal was suspected to be part of a plot with the Defias brotherhood, SI:7 decided to investigate.

Apparently they were starting small and subtle. It was stressed in the scroll that should something go awry and leak to the outside world, I would be properly punished.

"You said the missions were petty!" I exclaimed at Aradar, who was currently fitting me with acceptable gear for my tasks.

"That warning is on every task. This class is secretive, and that includes our missions. _No one _is to know of our doings."

I don't talk about it, I get to keep my life.

The Scarlett family lived on the outskirts of Elwyn forest, east of Stormwind. I had pretty good details of their cottage's whereabouts because of the handy scroll, and I'd have to journey there alone as well.

Aradar gave me a chest piece, pants, and wrist guards to better protect me, but I was more nervous about the dangers of the journey than of the task ahead.

I could handle a thief or two along the road—but if a gang were to come across me, I was in trouble. I'd have to vanish and get away, but it was easier said than done in bright daylight.

Didn't matter—I was on my way, my small pack and daggers Aradar had lent me at my side. I certainly looked geared to be a rogue—I was a walking target for the evils lurking in the forest.

From my position on the trail, however, I saw no inconveniences. Perhaps I was being cynical about the people of Stormwind.

Aradar promised that the corporal wouldn't be home—he was within Stormwind, sitting in on an important meeting.

Marie was only thirteen. Old enough to understand Daddy's affiliations, and to live home without Mommy's constant watch. My ideal would be that no one would be home. I played out different scenarios in my head. I couldn't slip up—for my good was well as the Alliances.

I arrived around noon. Luckily the house was relatively isolated, with a tree line hugging the front of the rather large cottage. Taking advantage, I posted watch in the trees. And watched and listened. I definitely heard clatter within the house—sounded like two people.

I was too anxious to relax. Every detail mattered, every move was dire. I'm not sure how long I simply stayed there, listening and watching, my muscles achingly tense, when the cottage door finally slipped open with a pop. And older woman, basket hanging on her arm, was tying a shawl around her head. "I'll be back," she called behind her in irritation. "Just giving a few vegetables to Molly up the hill." She then turned resolutely back around, towards the house. "In fact, why don't you come along, Marie? You should thank her in person for that lovely dress she tailored for you."

A bit more of a pause, and then a grumbling teen emerged behind her mother. She must have said something negative, because the mother rolled her eyes as the pair continued up the mentioned hill.

I wouldn't have long. As soon as the pair was out of sight, I hurried to the door. Not surprisingly, it lurched open unlocked.

The girl's room was easily found, despite the length of the house. The room was a soft pink, but judging my the powder and blush on the vanity, little Marie was beginning to mature.

A bookshelf graced the wall across the laced bed, but I didn't bother looking there—what girl puts her diary amidst other books, next to classical philosophy and poetry…

Under the bed, under the pillow. Nope. I shook my head. Was I bound to searching for books my entire life?

She wouldn't have taken it with her would she? She wasn't clutching anything…

Carefully I lifted the mattress, grateful when my eyes were graced with the image of a small baby blue book. Hurriedly I put the diary (as it was dutifully titled) into my sack. I slipped out before anyone arrived there, and was again traveling, this time back to Stormwind.

I arrived at Aradar's front door around supper time. He answered my knock with glistening eyes. "Now what?" I asked, flashing the diary. He smiled.

"Return it and the scroll to Officer Jared."

And so I did. Promptly. He seemed un-phased as I placed the scroll and small book on his desk. He merely glanced up, registered who I was, and continued to finish a scribble on parchment before taking hold of the diary. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any other quests capable of clearing before dawn. Tomorrow we'll have another full stock."

I nodded, bowing before I returned to my shelter with Aradar. He was as excited as I was about the first task completion, and so I told him every detail I could remember.

My only disappointment was that I had no one else to share it with. Dennis, Lucas…both were traveling. Making their own experiences.

I fell asleep easily after dinner, but I was awakened abruptly by Aradar, who was in a panic. "Officer Jared has required your presence in his office immediately," he said, "and he's not happy."

Groggily, I sat up, attempting to peer through the curtains to discern how high the sun had risen. There was no light. "With me?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. I was in my night dress, hair tussled about, and I had offered to change, but Aradar was convinced that the matter was far too important to delay.

"He never seeks anyone out unless the situation is critical," Aradar acknowledged with fearful eyes.

We practically jogged to SI:7, under the cover of complete darkness. Dawn would soon arrive, it was so late. The hurried pace gave me no time to quell my nervousness. I was rushed into Officer Jared's office, where he was pacing in front of his desk, a candle illuminating his dark features. Three other assumed-to-be rogues stood alongside him.

None of them looked particularly happy. The stern looks on every face left me feeling guilty, and I hadn't even done anything. They didn't even acknowledge my obvious state of undress.

"Grace." Officer Jared didn't even bother with formalities. "Care to explain exactly what happened earlier on your first task as a studying rogue?"

I hesitated at the formality of the question, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I attempted to catch a glimpse at my teacher. "I…I accomplished the mission, within jurisdiction of the instructions," I answered. "What is this…?"

"Corporal Scarlett arrived moments ago, announcing that his house had been ransacked." Officer Jared turned fully toward me, eyes glinting even in the scarce lighting. "That scroll gave you specific orders. Why has this simple mission of yours nearly vanquished what SI:7 has been working on for weeks?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I defended. "I left that house in the same condition I found it. Nothing was damaged, I can promise you."

I tried to keep my nerves from talking. Letting my mouth ramble on was not becoming.

"You were the only one left with this assignment," the officer added. "You recovered the diary, putting you there. What I want to know is why it was done! That is a deliberate attempt at treachery!"

"I didn't…do it," I stated, although it nearly came out in a hiss. "I have dedicated so much time into this program. Don't think me so stupid as to throw it away like that. I'm here because I want to defend the Alliance, not deface it."

"If you didn't do it, then who?" Officer Jared asked rhetorically. He lowered his voice. "The diary has actually given us some very valuable tips, and to that I am relieved. But our cover was nearly blown. If not you, then whom?" he repeated.

"Ask my teacher," I demanded. "I can account for my actions. Every single detail. I've told him as well. He's a judge of my character—Aradar can verify my innocence!"

All eyes turned to my mentor. His previous panic seemed to be quelled within him, as his eyes remained steady on the scene before him. When Officer Jared looked at Aradar expectedly, he grimaced and nodded. "I know my student well, Jared. And she has accounted every single action within the house. I will defend her innocence as well."

I smiled out of relief. Someone believed me.

Officer Jared gazed into my eyes, reading me the same way Zen liked to. Finally, he sighed. "I wish to believe you, Grace. I take pride in every student walking through these doors. But I must take precautionary measures in this case." He blinked, as if trying to block out the swarm of thoughts coming his way. "You're suspended from partaking in any more rogue assignments until further notice. We must investigate what has happened here, and if you _are_ responsible," he paused, "then you're a very good liar."

"I can promise you, Officer," I began, bowing slightly, "this is no lie." I left out the fact that I was a horrible liar. Was that something you should admit to superiors?

"You're dismissed."

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, the verdict finally crashing down on me. Suspended? I did nothing wrong!

And believe me, I wouldn't lie to my own journal. What kind of person could do that to themselves? Walking around telling lies and being cruel, and then retelling it as otherwise? I am a rogue, yes, but I have human morals…

Morals that seemed to be in question. Aradar walked me home. My first instinct was to find Dennis, let him hold me. But he was nowhere close, so my second option came into play.

I buried myself under the covers of my bed, curled up. Feeling as insecure as my future. Aradar said nothing, but we had an understanding—he had faith in his student, and I knew I could count on him. It was the only thing that kept my tears at bay.


	4. Aradar, Pt 2

Just wanted to say hi to those who are reading this. I'm really glad you've been reading ;)

And a shoutout to the guild. Gotta love UWS =]

**Aradar**

**Book Two, Part Two**

A week passed by. We never mentioned the suspension, but it was still in effect. Seven days I was stuck hurling throwing daggers, dual wielding against Aradar, wandering the streets at night…

Day seven, I awoke to red banners and flags that streamed throughout the main square. The entirety of Stormwind was outfitted similarly. When Aradar saw me gaping out the window, he chuckled. "It's the feast of Kings. Did you forget?"

"I didn't know," I commented. Of course, I had heard the chatter around the city. The buzzing around Stormwind had intensified over the past few days. It should've been a giveaway, but I was still holding a grudge against my apparent punishment. "What's it for?"

"It's the king's birthday today," Aradar commented. "We celebrate it every year with a festival. Lasts from sunup to sundown."

My lips pursed in perplexity. "But the king…"

"Is absent. It's true," he sighed, "but we celebrate nonetheless. Gives the people a sense of hope."

A sense. I sniffed my disapproval.

"They'll be decorating the next couple of days. The festival's the eighteenth."

Three days of agony. How lovely. What was the point in celebration when I personally had nothing to celebrate?

A knock at our door startled me out of my ruse. Aradar answered it quickly, and the hushed but intense voice behind me turned my attention. A man at the door was whispering intent instructions to my teacher, whom turned to me when the messenger was finished. "It's Officer Jared. He's requesting our presence once more."

I wet my lips, nodding. Relief washed through my body, but then I pondered. What if it wasn't good news?

Good news or not, we were on the way. How convenient that Aradar only lived a good minute away from SI:7.

Once we were inside, I turned towards the usual route up the staircase, but Aradar grabbed hold of my shoulder. "This meeting is in the hall. Follow." I did so, my pace behind Aradar too quick—more than once I almost tripped over my teacher's feet.

We went down, through tight staircases that chilled my spine. Perhaps it was the cold emanating from below.

Or the sense of fear.

More twists and turns, probably meant to confuse the hell out of amateur recruits like me. Finally, Officer Jared, flanked by his two cronies, pushed the group of us through a pair of grand, heavy doors.

I gulped as we entered. It was literally a hall. The room stretched lengthwise, a large and long table in the middle of it. At least fifteen men were seated, expecting an arrival.

Expecting me.

"Gentlemen," announced Jared.

I was frozen in place. Why? Whywhywhy…?

I nearly turned around, ready to stalk out of the room before I faced so many people. Why should I suffer this for something I hadn't been found guilty of?

Aradar held my shoulders, as if he read my intentions. "You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to fear."

Rogues were supposed to be unfeeling, calculating beings. So why was he so astonishingly good at reading me?

I was practically pushed through the room, eyes on my little frame as Aradar lead me to an empty seat. Everyone else took their rightful places to assemble the Knights of the Rectangular-ish Table.

Jared wasn't at the head of the table, as I had imagined him to be. Which meant that this was bigger than I had imagined, more complicated…

I scanned the room. Zen was here, as well as his buddy he had run into me with. Frowning, I leered at the head of the table. Was this an officer meeting?

Another man, who was quiet, sat at the head of the table. He looked middle-aged, but his eyes revealed a certain wisdom. It seemed to be a trend in the rogue industry—would I someday seem that wise? That insightful?

He had long black hair, but it was tied neatly behind his neck. Patiently, he waited as we quieted down.

Jared was the first to speak. He stood regally. "Grace," he began. I shut my eyes, disheartened. So this was about me. "You're here because I found it fit you learn of the events following your…temporary dismissal. We…have uncovered new information that has proved you innocent after all."

I couldn't help from grinning. I was part of the ranks again, right? So why did everyone look so solemn…?

He seemed to address everyone now. "Everyone has heard of the occurrence at Corporal Scarlett's house. Some of our covert teams have recovered fragile information. We've learned that it was not one of our own who rummaged through the Scarlett estate. Turns out the Defias issued a search as well, looking for clues to the Corporal's allegiance." He grinned. "They just weren't as…inconspicuous."

Now the man at the head, the one I figured most important, stood. Jared politely took his place amongst the rest.

"We believe the Defias are going to use the festival as a ruse, to get some supplies smuggled out of the city."

"Corporal Scarlett's in charge of ammunition supply, as well as weapon conservation," Aradar pointed out to me in a whisper. So he had easy access to the goods the rebels may need.

"There will be a messenger boy, a spy for the Defias, who will be sent for Scarlett when the smugglers are ready for Scarlett's goods. They're meeting right in the middle of the festival mess, near the fountain."

So apparently the Corporal had no idea that the Defias were just as keen to his loyalties as Stormwind. Whose side was he on, anyway?

"If Corporal Scarlett goes through with this plot," the man began, "he will be put to death for treason. But if we can prevent this from happening, without causing hysteria within our walls, Stormwind will be better off. And if we can catch him in the act of treason _and _hold of the Defias," the head man leered. "It's even better. No matter what, the Defias can _not _get a hold of those goods. Millions of gold would be put to waste."

Millions. This was big. I suddenly felt even more awkward than I had been feeling. Why was I here, again?

Oh, to get my record cleared. That's right.

Why was I _still _here?

"The first step is to stop that messenger. He has to reach Corporal Scarlett at the fountain in order to verify both the location of the Defias smugglers and the goods they plan to take. But he can't go any further—the messenger cannot send for those goods, or the Defias will infiltrate completely. Knowing Scarlett, he'll return to the sight the goods are and try to monitor the transaction. We'll catch him there. The second move is to break up their ranks—the diversion helps to keep them concentrated in one area, before they have an opportunity to spring into action. They'll be numerous, and they'll blend in very well within the festival. It'll be hard to keep the rebels contained if the diversion is weak. The third, to arrest Scarlett for treason."

My mind momentarily flashed to his family. What of them? Would they share the same fate? Be given mercy? Be forced off the continent all together?

"Once Scarlett reveals the location of the supplies, three rogues will swiftly act to defend them," Officer Jared announced, still seated. "Hopefully they beat Scarlett there, so he has a nice surprise awaiting him called an arrest. Zen, John, and Hovin, that's your duty. Others have been appointed to guard the ports, looking for the suspicious activity. We take down their post as soon as possible."

"The diversion." The head honcho panned over our not-so-round table. "We need a good enough diversion that'll hold them."

"Staged fight?" someone offered. No reaction.

"We have to be careful. Their messenger will be cautious as is, and we can't have chaos erupt within the center square," the chief commented. "Something uncanny, untraditional…"

Zen locked eyes on me, clearly concentrating. I almost looked away, face severely flushed scarlet, but his eyes were too intense to look away from. Was his process of thought that extreme? His expression was amazingly still.

"Grace."

Zen's mouth moved, but it took me a moment to register that a. he was talking and b. he was addressing me.

"Grace can be the distraction."

Silence fell. Okay, so he wasn't addressing me. He was talking about me. That was so much better.

The silence was spread across the entire room. Seventeen pairs of eyes landed on me. Zen turned, addressing his superior. "It's perfect. She's female. They won't expect a female to partake in this. Especially if she's not dressed the part of a rogue."

"She's inexperienced," Aradar spoke up.

I pouted. I thought he was the one who had the confidence in me. What happened to 'master of subtlety?'

"She has the power of sex-appeal," Zen pushed. Aradar's eyes landed on Zen, and for a moment they exchanged ardent glances. They weren't being bitter to each other, but they acknowledged that each had their own opinion.

Like they'd done this before; argued before.

The chief nearly choked. "Sex appeal?" he repeated, a perfect eyebrow raised. "I don't recall 'sex appeal' being in the rogue handbook, Zen."

That's because there _is _no handbook, I wanted to grumble.

"No, but it's definitely a plus." Zen's slight grin flashed towards me, and I had to clench my eyebrows in confusion. "It's perfect. Beautiful, harmless, female enjoying the festival. She just happens to be a rogue for the Alliance."

Zen thought I was capable. It didn't seem that difficult of a task—but it definitely wasn't in the curriculum of my rogue trainee assignments. Simple task, maybe—but a fallout would result in a slippery slope. One wrong move, a failed distraction, and the entire siege fails.

More silence. "They definitely wouldn't expect it," the chief mentioned under his breath. Finally, he looked to Aradar. "Is she prepared?"

For some reason, I grew agitated. It was a constant thing, these people turning to Aradar to ask of my abilities. Who knew better than me?

I stood up. "I'm prepared," I answered for myself. I felt quite a few of the bodies stiffen in response. It must not have been every day a non-ranked rogue voiced her own thoughts. The chief wasn't shocked, though. He looked upon me, mouth tight as if he was concentrating.

"Can you prove it?" he asked, perplexed.

My hands felt sweaty as they sat on the table below me. "What do you need? A signature in my blood, my first born, my soul?" His expression didn't change, but I saw a slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You need a viable distraction. A female. You can't get any girl off the street. I've been trained for stressful situations, and I work under pressure. I'm prepared."

From across the table, Zen's gaze met mine. I tried not to look scared, but it must have been obvious on my face. Although he didn't smile, a slight nod illustrated his approval, his encouragement.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous," the chief managed to muster as he smiled, "after your first unorthodox attempt at a mission?"

"Officer Jared acknowledged I'm clean. Innocent," I reminded him.

He paused, thinking, until a sigh finally escaped his lips. "Fine. Grace can distract the messenger. But I want those three rogue's flogged at her side, ready to act should anything go awry." That I could handle—I was still a novice, after all.

That meant Zen would be near me. I felt even more at ease. The meeting was adjourned, and the chief turned to Zen. "I expect _you_, Corporal Zen, to invest in what time you have breaking down the plans for Grace. Keep in mind she has never done anything like this before."

"Of course, sir," Zen replied with a bow. Everyone began to file out of the room. Perhaps they were just as excited as me to get out of the stuffy darkness.

Once Aradar and I paced a good distance away from SI:7, I sighed. "Who was that?"

He seemed to know what I was talking about. "Major General Rillhelm. Oversees a good portion of our ranks."

Probably the entire sector of SI:7, I mused.

"I would have said yes, you know," Aradar began. I looked over at him, trying not to look taken aback. "If you wanted so bad to be a part, I would have said you were prepared."

"Even if I wasn't?" I asked, a bit sour. "You disagreed with Zen."

"I didn't want to put you in danger," he defended. "But if you're truly ready, and you feel the need to help, then so be it. You know yourself better than anyone else."

We walked along in silence, the people of Stormwind chattering enough for the both of us. A giggle erupted from my throat. "So if this was a trainee mission, what color would it be?"

Aradar suppressed a chuckle. "We'd have to make a new category. We'll call it 'What have we gotten ourselves into?' black."

It wasn't even noon yet. We went into Aradar's little house, and I was content with simply sitting around.

Until Zen knocked on the door. It was well after lunch, but I still hadn't wound down completely. He insisted on starting as soon as possible, so I had the plan nailed by the time the festival began.

We sat down at Aradar's table, Aradar included. I didn't notice at the meeting that Zen was dressed…casually. Black pants, a white shirt, black jacket. "You look…unnatural," I commented, looking over Zen. He quirked an eyebrow. "Normal," I added. Zen smirked as he tugged at the collar of the black overcoat.

But he did seem…more human. More relatable. Like he had feelings, a life. Contrary to the standards of a rogue.

"Your goal is to keep the messenger at bay," Zen began. I sighed. Was this going to be a hodgepodge of facts I was already attuned to? "You start with us, so we can get a good radar on him. Scarlett's going to reveal the location…"

He repeated the route plan at least a half a dozen times. I would have dreams of our route.

The day came fast. I was terribly nervous, the pressure of success looming over me. Too many people were involved for me to screw anything up.

SI:7 actually invested in a festive dress for me. I was fitted for it and everything.

Yeah. My first 'unofficial' participation with SI:7, and I get a dress. It made no sense to me, either. It was a golden orange, with red accents. A beautiful crown of flowers sat on my neatly curled head of hair.

"Are you okay?" Zen mumbled with muffled concern.

Muffled because I had decided to lock myself in one of the training rooms of SI:7 until we parted for our position. Zen was trying to coax me out before necessary.

"I just think a mage could handle this better."

"You're not cracking under pressure, are you?" Zen asked with a tint of amusement. Even though I couldn't see him I could still imagine his demure. Arms folded. Back leaning against the door frame. Smirk painting his thin, alluring lips. It made me growl in irritation just thinking of it.

"I'm not talking about the mission!" I seethed, yanking the deadbolt off and puling open the door. "I meant this _dress_!"

It was far too nice. I was accustomed to plain cotton farmer's dresses at my home, and when I began training I had gotten used to boy's pants and boots.

Now, I was wearing a piece completely out of my comfort zone. My gaze fell to the floor instinctually, but after I hadn't received an immediate response from Zen, I stole a glimpse at his face.

I would have giggled if I wasn't so distraught. His lips puckered like he was solving a mathematical equation. "It _is _that bad, isn't it?" I asked, frowning. "This is _your _doing. You should have…I don't know…found another decoy, because I can't function in this thing without looking ridiculous!"

"If we wanted a decoy, then we _would _have selected a mage," Zen muttered.

I smoothed out any wrinkles visible. "It's going to get ruined," I surmised mournfully. All that hard work…

"As long as you keep your cover, it shouldn't," Zen commented. Sighing, I nodded my affirmation that he was probably right. "It's nearly noon." The rogue glanced emotionlessly out of the window, the sun's beams streaking across his face. His eyes glistened like emeralds. "Are you ready? The others are probably ready by now."

"I suppose," I answered, grabbing my basket full of red and white roses.

"Have some confidence," he said, patting my shoulder as we strode out of SI:7 towards the main square.

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, nervously fiddling with the weave in the basket handle.

Zen stopped abruptly. "You're prepared. You're armed. The rogues are stationed. I'm going to be watching…" I sighed. "Even if you stumble on every word you say, the boy'll be smitten." I blushed.

Snapping my eyes shut, I inhaled. When I opened my eyes, Zen was still looking at me expectedly. "Remember. Keep the messenger at bay from reaching the rest of them. And if you can, delay Scarlett as well. Good luck," he whispered. Zen gracefully walked away, figure lost in the sea of people.

The crowd was starting to enlarge. At noon there would be a fanfare, a proclamation, and a speech. Followed by dancing, drinking, games, and drinking. I prayed I would be capable of properly stalling my prey.

It was a tad awkward. Almost mindlessly I passed out the roses, a cheery smile tacked to my face. The entire time my eyes shifted between my three guardians—Zen especially. Their faces I had memorized.

Finally, one of them spotted the messenger. I had no doubt, with the way Corporal Zen locked his eyes first on me, then on the man.

He was burly—probably to discourage anyone from approaching him. My mind kicked into overdrive. Zen and the others were watching, waiting for the cue. Others were attempting to isolate the crew of Defias nestled somewhere in our very harbor.

And then there was me. I had to hold everyone in place and keep everything organized. All with a bat of the eyelashes.

The man approached Corporal Scarlett without a hint of hesitation. The Alliance officer was shaking hands, making light conversation with those around him. But his eyes were deceiving—they showed fear. For a moment I actually hesitated. Something was amiss. I stole a glance at Zen, who seemed to not notice. Of all people, Zen should have been able to feel that something wasn't right…

"Scarlett, old friend," the messenger began with a voice that matched his physique. His hand smothered Corporal Scarlett's, whose face paled.

With so much noise, it was hard to hear the conversation. I concentrated, mechanically passing out flowers while I turned my ear toward the pair.

"I know you have some…important information to tell me. Regarding the location of my…assets…"

A high pitched shriek erupted from above me, and for a deft moment my adrenaline had convinced me that something had gone wrong. That chaos had erupted, whether from an error on my part or another area of the mission.

But the whistle grew faint, eventually halting with an intense boom. I glanced up, breath regulating as a blue firework fanned the sky.

"Please don't do this," I caught through the eruption of 'oohs' and 'ahs.' "No good will come of it!" Corporal Scarlett said.

"If you want your wife and child to continue to live prosperously, I suggest you submit and give me the location."

My eyes widened in horror, and I was hoping people mistook it for the awe of fireworks. Corporal Scarlett had been bribed? With the lives of his family?

I didn't even steal a glance at Zen. Not when it was difficult enough to listen in. "Scarlett." His voice was getting heavy with anger. "The location."

"The-they're in an abandoned warehouse," Scarlett stuttered, "321 North Shore…on the edge of the harbor. Please, sir," his eyes were glossy, and I know he was trying not to break his façade in fear of revealing the situation to the public. "My family…I can't…"

"321, eh?" With a flick of his wrist, the man called over another man I assumed to be a part of the Defias rebels. He was smaller, paler…less experienced. To the boy, the messenger repeated the address. With the new information, the boy scurried my way.

"What do you say me and you…take a bit of a walk?" the messenger's hand clamped on Scarlett's shoulder, forcefully escorting him the opposite way of the address.

Quickly, I looked behind me, and noticed that one of the rogues meant to cover me had apprehended the boy. Zen tried to tear through the crowd, seemingly reaching for me, but the massive crowd was thick. He was getting pushed back too fast to get to the commotion. I looked back towards the other, bigger man, who was now carrying Scarlett off.

He was going to kill the corporal.

Technically, I may not be obeying orders. He wasn't a messenger any longer. But now, I had the duty to protect Scarlett as long as possible.

I heard Zen bark my name as I broke into a gait, but I ignored it. Come up with a plan, Grace…and fast…

The couple turned a corner, into a more secluded alleyway. I held my breath as I cut the turn way too enthusiastically.

"Corporal Scarlett!" I screamed, attempting to sound as happy and cheerful as possible. Forget that my nerves were causing my hand to shake as I held it above me in a wave. "Corporal Scarlett!"

I finally got the attention of both of them, and the Defias messenger turned around to begrudgingly figure out who was calling for his victim. "Corporal!" I exclaimed as I finally arrived at the two. "I haven't seen your daughter, Marie, in awhile. Is she here?" I asked. Bide time…had to bide some time.

"Uh…" His face was still pale, but I pretended not to notice. "I'm afraid not. She didn't…feel well."

My face fell. "Oh, that's too bad…we were supposed to…knit some…scarves up for the winter time!" I made up. "Can't have enough when it gets cold, you know?"

The other man growled in irritation so that I could hear. "Oh! I'm sorry, Corporal, I haven't been introduced to your friend!"

"Well, he's…"

"Would you like a flower?" I asked, holding out a white rose for the Defias to take. The flower's silky petals waved with the movement, making my shaking hands less noticeable. "The rose is such a beautiful flower, don't you think? White is meant to symbolize reverence and honor…"

Oh, please don't let him catch the irony leaking through my words…

He snuffed rudely, not even bothering to glance at the rose. His eyes did, however, land on me. "You're a pest," he stated.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in a mocking look of surprise. "Well, you're rude!" I countered.

"Girl." His patience was thin to begin with, apparently. He unsheathed a dagger, its blade jagged and twisted. "I won't warn you again. Leave us be."

"Wh-what are you planning to do with that?" I asked, wide eyes on the dagger. I didn't have to fake the stutter in my voice—that was still present due to nerves.

His massive body was a bit intimidating, but it didn't deter me very much. The man's lips perked into an eerie, sinister smile as the knife he held glistened in the sunlight.

Sweat found its place on my palms. I could feel his aura, almost imagine myself in his head. What the traitor in front of me was thinking about doing to me.

I dropped my basket, the roses sprawling along the cobblestone road. Blood red petals contrasted with its pure white counterparts…

"I'll give you 'til the count of three, girl, to run for it and never look back."

I wasn't scared. I trained for this moment.

"One."

No running. The muscles in my fingers twitched, a display of my instinctual anticipation.

"Two." His smile widened, eyes darkened. The man took a step further towards me, his hostage still within his iron grip. Scarlett's eyes were downcast in hopelessness. I grew more furious. Did he really think it was over?

"Three."

The opponent lunged the same moment my hands found my daggers. They molded to my body so comfortably now.

Both of my blades parried his slice with a cold shriek of metal on metal. It was a dissonant melody I had longed to hear—it heightened my awareness. His dagger, now unexpectedly outnumbered, remained trapped in the jaws of my two daggers.

Shock and befuddlement seized his face. "What?" he howled in disbelief.

I could guess it was pretty impractical. A little girl in a dress whipping out a couple of lethal weapons…and being able to use them.

I had the leverage over him. Only one hand of his was capable of combat. The other still had a hold of Scarlett. I waited for the man to make a decision. Finally, he released the officer, opting to draw a sword.

"Run," I barked at Scarlett. I doubted the Alliance officer was in a fair enough state to fight. And besides, his safety was my primary goal at the moment.

Quickly, I surveyed my surroundings. Weren't there more rogues, ready to act should something unexpected occur?

While I finished that thought, my adversary sliced at me with his sword. I barely dodged the longer blade. "You don't have to do this," I mentioned, anger seeping through my façade. My response was a growl of agitation.

He released attack after attack, keeping me on the defensive. At some point we had fought our way further down the alley—shadows began to consume the bright concentration of light.

It whirled by so quickly. I wasn't thinking anymore, just acting, reacting. Letting my fury for anything hell-bent on defiling my home be unleashed.

My senses were delicate. A new aura arrived within my perception, filling me with ease when I identified Zen's presence.

But where? For a moment I took my eyes off the Defias bandit, searching fruitlessly for Zen.

I lost my train of thought long enough for the man before me to get a good hit in. The hilt of his sword smacked against my jaw. I must have bit my lip or ripped open my gum, because the distinct metallic taste infiltrated my senses. Slightly startled, I reeled back a few steps.

Apparently he liked to play with his prey before finishing the job. He grinned his satisfaction when I spat an accumulation of blood onto the ground. I was half expecting a tooth or two to clink on the hard surface, skittering along the porous surface like gambling dice.

I took a defensive stance once again, but before I could plan an offensive move, I was surrounded.

Five rogues. They were much more intimidating. Zen was in the center, his cool expression only broken by a fierce pair of green eyes. I almost wished his body reflected that intensity, because at the moment I couldn't tear my eyes away from his.

The burly enemy was highly outnumbered and out-talented. His eyes deadened in realization.

It wasn't difficult for the five of them to apprehend the Defias soldier. He was carried off, probably to a jail of sorts I would rather not see.

I returned to SI:7 and waited for someone familiar to walk through the door, my hands fidgeting while I thought about the entire mission. Had everything gone according to plan? Was everyone okay?

Zen arrived. He walked in, caught the sight of me sitting erect in the chair near the fireplace, and calmly took the seat across from me.

Until he had arrived, I hadn't considered my actions. So I had kind of…sort of…disregarded my primary instructions. I hadn't pursued the true messenger, I went after Scarlett's captor instead.

But the entire mission had shifted when it was revealed that Scarlett was merely a pawn being used.

I perked up. "Did it go okay?" I asked a bit too excitedly. "Is everyone okay?"

Zen sat there, chin resting regally atop his hand. His finger tapped his cheek as he scrutinized me.

Was he ever going to learn that he couldn't read me like everyone else?

I was still in my pretty orange dress. It made the chat with Zen that much more awkward. "It was a huge success," Zen finally answered. "Despite the…altercations in the entire structure, we pulled through. How did you do?" he asked nonchalantly. It was a blasé question, as if he was simply mentioning the décor at the festival.

"You tell me," I commented.

"Were you scared?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Not scared. Nervous. Once the entire mission flipped itself over its head…my plan of action changed." My eyes slipped to the floor, afraid of what Zen would say. "And I apologize if I breeched any commands. I was simply running on my intuition."

He paused, allowing me to wallow in my guilt, until he finally pursed his lips in confusion. "I'm actually a tad perplexed…at one of the things I noticed…"

I looked up, also confused. "Hn?"

"You got distracted," he mentioned, eyes delving into mine. "He hit you because you weren't focused."

"I-" I clipped my mouth shut, thinking I could possibly say a bit too much. But I sighed, knowing Zen would get to the bottom of whatever I was hiding in time anyway. "I felt you arrive. Your aura."

Zen smirked. "I didn't realize I had that affect on your judgment."

I blanched. "It's not like I can control that!" I defended. "I can't just shut your aura off, you know!"

The man in front of me chuckled, his eyes lit in entertainment. "You should have sensed the others, as well. They were right behind me."

"After I sensed you, I got thumped in the face, remember?" I said. "I wasn't very concerned with auras after that."

"Or maybe you have…selective senses?" Zen asked, eyebrows perked. "Only sensing the auras you wish to sense?"

I scoffed. "Count on you to turn a testy mission for me into some weird sort of infatuation with you."

Another chuckle as Zen relaxed, his back finally slouching into the comfortable chair. "Well, whatever the reason for the slip, you have to work on it. In true battles, there will be a million and one distractions on all of your sides. You have to take it all in, know exactly what's going on…and not overreact when something tempts you."

"I wasn't tempted by anything," I grumbled, folding my arms.

So much for constructive criticism.

"One more thing," Zen offered. "Next time you decide to save the day, make sure you have a bit of backup. You didn't go in very rogue-like, so it was lucky that he wasn't very experienced."

"I couldn't go in rogue-like!" I defended. "Scarlett was in danger! I couldn't stealth through the alley in _this!_" I articulated, gathering a bunch of my dress' fabric in my hands.

I received another light-hearted chuckle in response.

From then on, green missions were a breeze. Aradar continued to give me important lessons, after mission after mission of lock picking, pick pocketing, sneaking in, sneaking out, scoping, observing…

I was definitely getting faster, nimbler. I knew I was anything but indestructible though—I had a fair share of injuries and close encounters.

Dennis returned the day after I began my yellow training missions. He came to my place with Aradar, and I was all but utterly shocked when he was on the other side of the door. "Den…?" I asked, unsure. But there he was, beaming smile and glittering eyes. I exploded into his arms. "I'm so glad you're back!" I screamed. Townsfolk outside gave curious glances, but I paid no heed.

"Miss me?" he cooed. I realized just how much I had—his soothing voice, comfortable arms…everything that had kept me going.

"More than you can possibly imagine," I answered. Pulling away, I gave a good look into Dennis' eyes. "How long do I get to keep you?" I asked.

"As long as I live," Dennis replied with a crooked grin. "But I leave in three days."

It wasn't fair that he got to venture out of the gates, seeing new things and always facing dangerous tasks. I was cooped up in Stormwind, constantly reminded of moments with Dennis and Lucas.

And the following week I got my wish for more danger.

It started routine enough. I woke up and immediately made my way to Officer Jared's little niche. He greeted me with pondering eyes. Then his lids minimized into a look I knew meant he was suffering a dilemma. Finally, he sighed, grabbing a yellow-tied scroll that was laying on his desk. I eyed the parchment curiously as he slid it toward me. "This task…it more difficult than normal, Grace. I think you're the best bet I have on this one."

The off-handed compliment caught me by surprise, and my eyes widened because of it. "Oh?" was all I could muster.

"The only requirement I have is that you accept the help of other rogues," he ordered with forced calm. "It's…a hit on someone."

"A…hit…?" I stammered, drawing in closer.

"An assassination." His eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't help but feel oddly proud and important. I was the one entrusted on this task. "Now, given, the man shouldn't be considered dangerous—combatively, at least…he's of other importance to the enemy."

"The enemy?" I was repeating things again. It was a comfort zone of mine when I grew confused. A fallback.

"There are rumors of an army rising up against our forces," he explained obtusely.

"The Defias?" I asked.

"No. Bigger." He breathed, trying to compose himself. "This man has great skill in many different trees. Engineering, herbalism…he's a weapon they've gotten a hold of. I'm not sure how much they think we know, and he has been fairly unguarded in the past. It's a yellow mission, but," he wetted his lips, "you're the only trainee I have enough confidence in to give this to. Needless to say, others will attend. The squad will meet you in SI:7 at sundown."

The target had been hiding away in Darkshire, too close to Stormwind for comfort. These enemies we had seemed to be encroaching upon our lands. We were catching on too late to be able to defend?

While the orange colors of the sun began to fade through the window panes of SI:7, I tried not to think about my mission. I had to kill a man.

Kill. Murder. The first time I had to spill blood for the good of the Alliance. Was I capable?

Only time would tell.

Aradar was going to come, naturally. He and I had arrived nearly an hour ago. The others were now creeping in. Many familiar faces greeted me, but none were Zen. I felt a bit disappointed at that. I had learned to trust Zen fairly well, sense him better than most…

We traveled by horse. Six horses for six rogues, hidden under the veil of darkness. I rode next to Aradar, who kept a steady gaze on the tree line ahead of us. Before we had even arrived at SI:7 previously, he chided over and over again to me that I didn't necessarily have to be the one to commit the act. If I couldn't get a good spot onto him, others could kill. I understood, but at the same time, I _wanted _to complete this mission. Every aspect of it.

I wanted to test myself.

We left the horses in the heart of Darkshire. The target was in walking distance, according to directions. Hiding in one of the many catacombs of the cemetery.

When we arrived, it was quiet. We descended into the catacombs, the cool air permeated with the stench of the dead. A fleet of rogues were now cloaked in darkness, a python ready to strike.

The man was in a room farther down the hallway. The stone walls were lined with a few books he must have thought to take while he was hiding. He was facing away, his back to us, and a desk sat before him. It was strewn with aged, yellowed parchment. A few beakers and other knickknacks were sitting before him.

The target's breath was shallow, on the border of panicky. It came out as short puffs through his nose, as if he was a bull preparing to strike. His shoulders shook, body hunched over towards whatever he was doing. White hair rested atop his head, like unkempt grass. It stood up in disarray. His quivering hadn't stopped as we slid, invisible, closer to him. Was he afraid of death? Was he anticipating it already?

After getting a nod from Aradar, I took a step closer all alone. My dagger hadn't been drawn yet, but my fingers were itching for that familiar feeling. I had advanced soundlessly, as gracefully as possible—so I was caught off guard when the man before me chuckled out loud.

"Have you come to k-kill me?" he cackled, back still to us. Shocked, I felt my spine straighten. How? "Hmm?" Another shallow laugh erupted, sending his puffs of breath to his shoulders. Then he turned, facing us, and I realized he hadn't been shuddering in fear. He was shaking with exhilaration. His eyes were black, but shone with a brightness that left me feeling cold inside. The feeble man in front of me seemed to look right through me. "I have news for you!" he exclaimed, crooked hands in his lap. "You won't succeed! You'll be ripped apart! They'll protect me!"

I stepped back, nearly intimidated. The crazed look in the man's eyes was completely unexpected, and it almost scared me. The mention of a 'they' had my senses crooning outwards—through the hallways, into every corner…

All I felt was darkness. But it was growing more concentrated, growing closer. The same moment I gasped, two things happened. Aradar called my name, in one word commanding me to follow through with my task; and an army of monsters were stalking toward our small battalion, arms flailing as if they had no ligaments or muscle. They crept closer, and I realized that they _didn't_. Graying skin covered decrepit bones, and growls and gurgles of protest were echoing through the small tunnel.

It sent a stimulus through my body. Before I could think properly, my dagger was out and I had stabbed it solidly into the old man's chest, and he hobbled over, completely taken aback. Crimson cascaded down his brown coat, painting not only him but my hands as well. It felt sickly warm as I watched his eyes widen and dim, face paling. I twisted the blade, a sickening _rip _illustrating the damage done was irreversible, and the man lurched forward toward me before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

I had no time to think on my actions. I spun around, still fixated on the chilling snarls resounding around me. Five rogues were still standing, allowing me a small sigh of relief.

But we were blocked in. Once one of them fell, another took its place. About fifteen of them were staggering toward us, hungry for vengeance, blood…

Without a hesitation I joined the ranks next to Aradar, helping him finish off a pair that had tried to sink their teeth into his chest. Before I could utter a word to my teacher, we were both facing two more of the zombie _things_.

Their faces were indiscernible. Just bones and teeth, with skin present where it hadn't peeled off. I grew horrified at such an atrocity—what were they? Mutants?

We had cleared the twenty or so with minor injuries. One had managed a good bite right on my collar bone, but it hadn't dislodged any skin—the thought of a gaping hole in my shoulder made me shudder more than the blood currently seeping from the teeth marks. Another rogue had claw marks gracing his cheek. One other was suffering from a limp. We would survive.

But another wave came, of the same number. We repeated the process again, staying close together and taking on the group as a whole instead of concentrating on a single target. The floors looked chocolate-covered, but I knew what the deep color really was—it was much more red as it colored our faces, shirts, arms…

Dozens of bodies were now at our feet, ornamented by dismembered limbs and heads. The strong scent of blood was now burning my nostrils.

The second wave was the final attack. Once we had downed all of them, I counted again. Six rogues. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least we hadn't suffered any casualties.

We were doused in blood. Now that I wasn't zoned into combat, my senses were whirling with my surroundings. The concentration of death within the room was stifling; I was holding down a gag reflex.

"Let's get out, and fast," Aradar commanded. "This stench will draw predators…Undead or otherwise."

As we nearly sprinted through the twisted paths and into the open air, my curiosity got the best of me. "Undead? That's what those things are called?"

"Products of the Scourge," Aradar growled, his red-spotted cloak billowing as we traveled to the city for our horses as fast as possible. "An atrocity. Not alive…but not dead."

I was fairly familiar with the Scourge, and I was still determined to get even more details, but I held my tongue. We were in too much of a hurry, too busy, to worry about a history lesson.

The rogue who had been limping was receiving help from two others. We made it to our mounts quicker than I had anticipated. And when we were ready to take off, it was faster than imaginable.

My steed's mane remained airborne as we fled. His feet clipped the dirt paths in quiet staccatos. I felt the liquid on my face, hands, and other parts begin to dry, and a pain was beginning to form around my bite.

Not once did I live in regret about what I had done to that man. I relived it, no doubt. It played over-and-over in my head during that ride, to the point where I questioned my sanity. I thought maybe I was growing sick, sadistic, irreconcilable.

But I was defending my home. I had been asked to act in accordance with my Alliance, and I was honored to help. If I was crazy for defending what I knew to be truth, then so be it.

My first night to spill blood, and it spilled in great quantity.

It was near dawn when we stumbled carefully into SI:7. We were careful to avoid townsfolk, with how appalling we currently looked. Officer Jared, accompanied by who I recognized as other officers from the meeting I attended previously, were waiting up for our return.

We must have looked as bad as I felt. Horrified looks weren't hidden as the six of us arrived in the small welcome center. I barely made out Zen's presence in the crowd.

Aradar was the first to step up. "He was guarded. An entire army of Undead were laying in the catacomb, waiting for an attack. Had there been one less of us, death would have been a consequence."

Shudders of conversation stirred. Subconsciously I placed my hand over my wound, the adrenaline now gone, allowing pain to take control. I grit my teeth. "Undead?" Jared repeated.

"Dozens," Aradar announced. "I'm afraid they are growing more powerful than we have anticipated."

Jared's eyes landed on me, mixed with concern and curiosity. "And our target?"

"Dead," I answered shortly. I was hoping my bangs would hide the discomfort I was beginning to feel as my reddened hand held out my scroll. I left bloody fingerprints on the outside of it when Jared reacquired it. I felt a sudden urge to leave. Let me get out of these sickening clothes…clean and cover this wound…

"We will discuss what has happened here in greater depth in a few hours. You must clean up. Are there any serious injuries?" asked Jared.

They took a count. Most of us only needed stitching or bandaging. They made it a priority to get me to a medic first—apparently the bite near my shoulder was more serious than imagined; the burning sensation spreading through it could have been a hint.

Before they whisked me away, though, I heard Jared sigh. "Times are growing weary, I'm afraid. Trainees like Grace…our gifted ones…they must be taught at an accelerated rate. We must find strength in numbers, but talent as well. Grace must be pushed even harder…"

"Zen." Aradar's eyes locked onto the man in question, who looked over expectantly. "You are closer to the battle experience than I. I'm growing old, dusty. Grace needs a teacher like you."

My mouth fell open. "Aradar!" I exclaimed, still cradling my injury. "You can't do that! _You're_ my teacher! You-"

"Grace," the older man began, a hand held up in peace. "Zen can teach you much more than I am able. Trust in my judgment, child. He learned from the best."

"Take her to get treated," Jared announced, nodding to my bloody form. I was suddenly aware of the sweat that glazed my dirty skin, absorbing the heat of anger I felt at Aradar but only intensifying the twinge at my neck.

"Aradar!" I growled again, even attempting to fight through the arms pulling me up a thick set of stairs in the corner of SI:7. "This attack wasn't in your control! Don't feel obligated to push me away because of-"

"You'll learn better this way!" he called. Perhaps he said something else—but I was already being escorted through an unfamiliar hallway.


	5. Zen

Happy new year!

And enjoy =]

**Zen**

**Book Three, Part One**

I didn't pay attention as I was treated. One man cleaned my visible skin, applying a thick ointment to abrasions I had. It stung when it made contact with my cuts. The one I assumed was a specialist was mostly concerned with the gruesome bite I had acquired along my collar bone—before the man treating me had taken a look at my injury, I had assumed it was bruising around the teeth marks; but the doctor was quick to explain that my skin, in fact, was rotting away. The purple was slowly fading to black. "A side effect of an Undead's attack. Lucky for you, whoever got a good bite into you was a newborn, and this bite is superficial. It's easily reversible."

Which was good, because visions of me turning into a zombie had started to flip through my mind. The older man ripped open as much of my shirt as needed, as he first cleansed the area effected. I grimaced as he pulled at the openings in my skin; it was a terrible angle to see, but my blood was oozing a dark ruby color through the marks. "It doesn't hurt?" he asked with a clip of professionalism. "No extreme burning, pricking?" I shrugged.

"A bit, but it's bearable…"

He nodded as if he had already known the answer. "Okay then."

With dexterous hands he took a hold of an unmarked bottle, wetting a piece of cloth. I quirked an eyebrow: was that liquid _bubbling_? Then the material was placed over my wound, causing me to hiss in agony. "Okay," I gasped. "_Now _it's burning!"

"Easy, easy," he almost cooed, treating me like I was a child. I watched in horror as whatever was in that tonic seemed to eat away at the holes in my skin, causing the blackness to bubble like heated tar. I whimpered, the burning sensation feeling as if it'd dissolve the skin and insides that it protected. The feeling felt endless, like it would keep digging, past the bite, through veins, tissues, bone…

Another twinge caused me to growl, fingers flexing while the medic's cool hand remained locked around my upper arm to brace me. If possible, the pain escalated, and I had to grit my teeth and buck in my seat to keep from screaming. Then, suddenly, it was gone. The jagged shapes of teeth marks were still visible, but all evidence of death had faded. Any marks remaining were now pink, oddly bright against the tone of my skin.

Finally, I caught my breath. "What…"

"Perfect. Couldn't have gone better. Now, if any sign of discomfort or reddening starts, you need to seek one of us immediately."

I nodded, relieved that the pain was finished. I attempted to stand up, but I swayed a bit, still winding down from the pain. "I'm okay," I muttered. With small steps I managed to hobble down the stairs to the common room, where a few officers were still lingering about. They held a very hushed conversation. Upon seeing me, the dialogue ceased.

Zen was waiting for me, his hands pressed together as they rested against his lips. His elbows were placed on his knees, the angle giving him a weary look. Immediately, he stood, eyes resting on my form with a softness I didn't think was possible. I moved to him, hair falling over my wound in an effort to hide the blemish. Zen's hand rested on my shoulder, his thumb grazing the bite mark anyway. I couldn't hold back my shudder. "Aradar moved your things to my place."

My eyes minimized to slits. "I can't believe him. Zen, I need him…" Before I could continue, the lean man had his arm around me and he escorted me out of SI:7. "Just because one of my missions went wrong-"

"Nothing went wrong," Zen corrected coolly. He was still leading me through the streets, which were now beginning to brighten as the sun began to rise. "It may not have gone according to plan, but it certainly didn't go wrong." We walked a bit further, and I decided perhaps it was best that Zen's arm was wrapped around me, acting as a sort of cane to lead me. I had no idea where Zen lived. "Besides, he won't be completely out of the picture. The old man has more sense than that," Zen commented lightly.

"How do you know?" I asked cynically.

"Aradar and I go way back," he mentioned, eyes still on the paths ahead of us. A baker rushed through the street, a sack of what appeared to be flour in his hands. "Back to my own training days, to be accurate."

I gasped. "So he trained you!" Everything finally made sense. The looks the two shot to each other, the reason Aradar trusted Zen, the feeling of closeness the pair seemed to have.

But they must have had their differences. _That _was evident in the looks they shared as well, like the day I had my meeting discussing my future at SI:7.

"No worries, Grace." Zen patted my shoulder as we arrived at his supposed house. It was around the corner, and he managed to force the door open with his free hand. "If there's one person capable of training you just as well as Aradar, it's me." With a grin, Zen guided me through the threshold.

Zen's house was much larger than Aradar's had been, and definitely more modern. Candles lit the dark corners, and red curtains and tablecloths acted as casual decorations. "Your room is upstairs," he mentioned, motioning towards the stairs.

"You have two stories to yourself?" I asked, slightly amused. He shrugged.

"The more SI:7 wants you to do, the more they offer."

There was only a single room up the stairs. The roof made an awkward slope above me, but it gave the space character. Of course, there wasn't very much in the room when one factored in furniture—a bed, certainly, a trunk at its foot, and another dresser along the far wall. A single, large window was set right beside the bed. The color theme of this room was blue—bed sheets, curtains, border along the walls.

I felt Zen approach behind me on the steps. "I was thinking about…getting a vanity up here for you. A bookshelf, maybe, since I see that you brought along a few books..." Now I saw my things, laid nicely atop the midnight blue of the bed. My small pile of books was there as well.

"You don't have to do that," I offered, still taking in the…tranquility…of the room. "It's nice, Zen. Really nice."

"I'm glad. Well…I'll let you get…comfortable." With that said, he left down the stairs. I heard him blow out a few candles, extinguish a lantern. He must have been up all night like I had been.

I couldn't sleep quite yet though. My first task was to strip off my disgusting clothes, which I could do under the cover of a divider that was opposing the staircase. Hidden in its folds was a water basin and pitcher, but I ignored the commodity for the moment and instead pulled on a nightgown. At least now I felt somewhat human.

Before I could collapse onto the bed, it needed clearing. The few books I had I placed on a table I noticed now, in the far corner near my divider. The clothes I did own went into the dresser, and I noticed with slight bemusement that I still had possession of the orange dress from the festival.

My brush went atop the dresser. I noticed with a frown that the room's bare appearance hadn't been altered by my presence. It still looked uninhabited, pulled out of a doll house.

I pulled the blue curtains shut, an attempt at keeping the blinding sunlight out. I was tired, and my body was trying to tell me so.

My head hit the pillow, and I remembered nothing more.

When I woke up well past noon, Zen was missing. I crawled downstairs, not bothering to change, and felt the distinguished absence of his aura. So I decided to snoop—I mean, tour his house.

I had been too asleep that morning to bother looking around, but now I was honestly curious. Just what did a lethal rogue's bedroom look like? With earnest I walked into his room, expecting something borderline psychotic or exotic. I was slightly disappointed. It was a normal bedroom, without much of surprise. His bed was, though, cloaked with black satin. I had to stroke the fabric with my fingers to be sure the a beautiful material was real. Black pillows towered over the sheets, complete with silver linings. Matching silver silk pillows stood behind those. Long, black curtains covered the windows, a barrier between daylight and darkness. A single, stout dresser sat across from the black bed. It looked to be polished black.

Okay, so Zen liked the darkness.

Then I discovered something that actually made me jealous. A sort of dresser lined the single wall that would be otherwise bare—I opened it and discovered it was packed full of armor and even some weapons. A handful of daggers lined the bottom draw, expertly placed as if on display. An entire set of matching armor was sitting behind two doors I swung open—the helmet and shoulder guards I found especially intriguing. They glinted black, the angles on the helmet looking like they themselves could slice through a target, leaving only room for the eyes. The shoulders of his armor were menacing, with claws jutting out. I was almost tempted to touch one of the edges, but I was too afraid of getting cut.

Someday, I promised myself, I would be the owner of such a set. SI:7 would beg _me _to help them, offering me anything I'd ever wanted…

But what did I really want, ultimately, besides justice for my father and the thrill of proving myself capable of defending my faction. Not much else.

With a click the dresser was shut, and I made a hurried pace out of the bedroom. Zen wouldn't have minded me looking around, surely, but I didn't want him catching me in he act, either.

I sat at his dining table, hands fiddling with the green material of the placemat. I was completely in approval of merely sitting around today—the occurrences of the night before left me weary. Boredom quickly found me.

I used a mirror at the end of the hallway to inspect my healing wound. Healed would be a more appropriate term; there weren't any scabs littering my skin. Only a pinkish hue where the Undead monster had managed to sink his teeth. The little dashes crawled across my skin in a crescent shape pattern. I had a good feeling that the scar was permanent.

The images of those things were seared into my mind—a worse reminder of what they were than the physical damage I now saw in the mirror. Things like those Undead—with those hollow eyes and animalistic growls—they had killed my father. So long ago, the alliance soldiers probably didn't have a chance. They couldn't have possibly fathomed what the things were capable of. Maybe the Undead zombies were merely experiments then, only swaying to a higher power's will. Condemning themselves unknowingly. I clenched my fists to keep them from punching Zen's nice mirror; whether those animals acted willingly or not, they killed my father. And they would all die for doing so.

Zen began training me that evening. His lessons were beginning to really frustrate me. I specifically remembered Officer Jared saying that my training needed to be sped up. So _why _was Zen starting at basics yet again? We sparred, and Zen's scrutinizing eyes were distracting every moment of it. Finally, when Zen revealed a smirk of entertainment, I threw up a kick and backed away from the fight. "_What_?" I snapped, daggers at my sides.

"I'm actually a bit impressed. You've learned a lot."

I glared. "That's not why you're amused, though." Zen shrugged, his weapons also taking their place at his side.

"I was simply entertaining the fact that you fight with your emotions more than your brain."

My jaw clenched. "I'm fueled by revenge, Zen. It tends to happen sometimes."

"So you're willing to allow your silly emotions to jeopardize a mission?" he countered, taking a step closer but not moving his daggers.

"My emotions won't get in the way," I growled, grips clenching on my dear weapons.

"Really?" he asked smoothly. With the blink of an eye Zen was behind me, a dagger pressed to my throat as his other arm locked mine behind me. My spine jarred at the close contact. "Say you're on a mission with another rogue. The pair of you are ambushed, and your partner gets taken hostage. Pretend its someone you know. Pretend it's…Aradar. The man holding him says you will cooperate or he dies. What do you do?"

"Nothing," I replied, minding the fact that Zen's blade was warm against my neck. As I spoke, the metal grazed my skin. "Aradar's an experienced rogue. He could escape himself."

Zen chuckled. "Okay, then the hostage is a child. Innocent, harmless child. Now what?"

My mind flashed back to my slip back in training with Aradar, when I had helped the seemingly troubled child. Back then, it was a ruse. "I would do anything in my power to save the child."

Zen's breath was grazing my hair, the tendrils tickling my neck. "Even though its an obvious attempt to ruffle your feathers?"

"Yes."

"Silly girl." With difficulty I withheld a growl of protest at the name-calling. Luckily Zen pulled away, turning to face me again. "The child would most likely die anyway. Some things would be out of your power."

"How do I know unless I try?" I asked.

Our conversations during and after combat usually went as such. My usual emotion I played off was frustration and anger, and it didn't help matters when Zen would berate me for using them in battle. It wasn't like I could just shut off my emotions.

"I'm not asking you to shut them out," Zen would growl. "I'm telling you to leave them off the battlefield."

My yellow missions continued. Living with Zen was…different. It felt less awkward as time progressed, but at the same time, it was difficult dealing with Zen when I _hadn't _been spending every single moment around him. Now that I was constantly under his wing, it was even harder to keep my temper in check.

Lucas and Dennis had been inducted long ago into their respectable classes, and were gone for longer increments of time, leaving me to handle my ocean of emotions alone. Didn't they know it was dangerous leaving a female rogue to her feelings?

I had more dangerous missions. They involved killing, incapacitating, stealing battle plans, and other daring moves. They were definitely a challenge, but Zen always accompanied me. After the fiasco in the catacombs, no one was going to leave me alone, no matter how much I complained.

Zen kept on me, kept pushing me when we dueled. In the beginning he'd constantly beat me, leaving nothing I could boast about. After three weeks or so, I was definitely becoming a legitimate adversary.

Zen growled as I made a good slice towards his stomach that he barely dodged. Realizing I had a slight upper hand, his lips pulled into a grin, and I was left speechless as a flash of smoke interrupted my concentration. My opponent was nowhere to be found.

No matter. After three weeks with Zen, both in and out of my missions, it was too easy to feel his presence. I closed my eyes, my sight worthless anyway, and concentrated on the feeling of his aura. It was coming quickly from the side.

With a quickness I had managed to obtain through months of training, I managed to parry an otherwise lethal strike to my shoulder blade. Zen looked at me with surprise, the smoke still not fully cleared when he took a step back.

"You sensed me," he stated, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

"Zen," I made sure to stress his name, "I've been surrounded by it for weeks now. If I can't pick your aura out by now, I'd be scared."

"But…" He took a step closer, still slightly awed. "I don't know anyone who has that kind of sense for others." He paused, pursing his lips. "How many people can you sense that strongly?"

"Well, it depends," I began. Obviously we were finished dueling for now, so I put my daggers into their respectable sheaths. "The better I know someone, the better I can sense them. Say, for example, someone asks me to sense…the king, for example. I wouldn't be able to. I don't know his aura to begin with."

"But there are some you have…memorized, so to speak?" Zen asked.

I nodded. "Aradar's. Dennis, Lucas, you…people I've been around enough to distinguish. I could probably pick out Officer Jared, a few others…"

"Amazing." Zen smirked. "You may prove to be an even better perk to our class, after all, Grace."

I couldn't help but smile myself, my eyes finally adjusting as the smoke cleared. "That's what I'm aiming for. Now, are you going to explain what the hell that trick of yours was, or are you going to keep me guessing?"

Zen was persistent in making me as much of an unfeeling stone as every other rogue. I grew exceptionally upset once, after I had managed a deft blow towards Zen's chest because he chuckled and commented on my anger. Then he persisted, telling me, "Perhaps you would have been better off training as a warrior, if you insist on using so much rage."

I didn't enjoy the jest. After landing a good kick in between Zen's legs, I stalked off, not bothering to look behind me at his hunched over figure.

It's not like I attempted to run away. That was the last thing I would do. Of course, I had no desire to go to Zen's house. Instead, I knocked on Aradar's door.

He answered with a smile, and I wondered if he was actually expecting me. Well, I thought, he was a rogue. He most likely sensed me down the street.

"Come in, Grace."

I did so, noticing that nothing had really changed inside his home. Without hesitation I sat at his table, smirking at the fruit basket.

"What's troubling you, child?"

I sighed. Here we go again with the 'little' thing. When was I going to be a rogue in everyone's eyes? "Did you ever think…my temper got in the way of my skills?" I asked as straightforward as I could.

Aradar eyed me curiously. "Temper?" Then he grinned knowingly. "Has Zen been pushing you about your temper?"

"Like no other," I commented with a growl. "But did you think?" I wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.

"I didn't think you had much of a temper with me," he answered. "You were learning from scratch, Grace. I completely understood that you would have your…frustrations with new experiences."

A frown formed on my face. "But then…" I sighed. "I suppose Zen just brings out the worst of me."

"He intends well." Aradar sat down, a small smile on his own lips. "Zen is merely looking out for you. He's taking my request seriously."

"You've spoken to him lately?" I inquired, eyebrow raised.

"Despite how he seems, he's very fervent about your training. I have complete faith in him."

"I know he's a talented rogue, Aradar," I agreed. "But he…rubs me the wrong way."

The man across from me grinned. "Go back to your teacher, Grace. Please take into consideration what he's teaching you. I trust him. You should, too."

I wanted to retort that I _did _trust Zen, but I didn't feel like making a fool out of myself. Smoothly I got up, ready to open the front door, when the heavy oak opened by itself. A boy about my age stepped in, clearly surprised by the presence of a woman. "Ah, Winston. Back so soon?" Perplexed, I looked away from the blonde haired boy, managing to land a gaze of question on Aradar.

"Your new trainee?" I demanded, a bit hurt as I turned my shoulders to Aradar. Apparently he didn't feel guilty enough to not take another apprentice.

"The officers training the new recruits are numbered. We're spread thin, trying to push through as many skilled rogues as possible." He cleared his throat. "Grace, this is Winston. Winston, Grace." I smiled over my shoulder as charmingly as possible, and the blonde named Winston waved uncertainly.

"I…should be going," I finally announced with a bit of a clip. With a slight nod to the pair, I turned and exited Aradar's small estate.

Zen was waiting for me at his dinner table. It was almost supper time—I noticed when I entered the aroma of some sort of stew brewing. He said nothing while I slumped into the chair next to him in defeat. After a few moments of silence, I sighed. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I shouldn't have…run off."

"I shouldn't have said that," Zen replied, eyes closed. "Grace, I-" Zen took in another deep breath, his hands moving to his lips like they had the morning we returned from the catacombs. "You have to understand that I only wish the best for you. If I don't push you…"

"I know," I answered lightly. "I'm going to try…to listen. I'm just afraid of becoming…a machine. If I lose my ability to feel, then I'm fighting for nothing."

"I'm not asking you to forget your feelings," my teacher mentioned. "How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

No answer escaped my lips.

"I thought about…you," Zen mentioned, as if he was confessing to a serious crime. "I'm going to offer you a deal."

My eyebrow perked in curiosity. "A deal? What sort of deal?"

"An attempt at incentive," Zen said. "Once I've decided you're capable of controlling your emotions while fighting, I will move you up to red missions."

My air supply got cut off with excitement, but I wasn't completely sold. "Are you serious?" I asked, uncertain.

"Completely serious." His lips pulled into one of his breathtaking smirks. "When have I ever misguided you?"

"Never…as of yet," I grumbled, giggling as my teacher scowled across from me.

"Rogue's honor. You improve, I'll give you my authorization."

For a moment I paused, momentarily lost in his eyes. "Deal," I announced, holding out my hand in a shake. A small smile perked at the corner of his face as he shook my hand.

"Deal."

I really did try, and I was fairly certain Zen approved. His smiles as we dueled felt approving rather than critical.

It was as if I could disjoin myself from my feelings. I still recognized the enemies, certainly—but the fury I felt toward the Scourge was now under monitoring, hidden beneath layers of self control, helping me instead of hindering me.

Only four days had passed before I felt more precise. I was able to sense clearer, and therefore my reactions were quicker.

Zen stumbled, his dodge rendered ineffective as he fell onto his behind. His favorite dagger was dislodged—it spun away, far left from his position. "Yes!" he exclaimed, not even bothering the retrieval of his blade. Pulling himself up, he was in front of me in no time. I was a tad jealous, though. My chest rose and fell with huffs of air, and he remained balanced, not a sign of wear on him. "That was it!" His voice still leaked a bit of excitement as he patted me enthusiastically on the shoulder. I grinned. "Well, you're ready, I think."

My eyes widened "Are you serious?" I exclaimed, nearly jumping up in excitement until I realized that it wasn't very rogue-like.

"Well, I promised, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…I thought it might have been just a ploy."

Zen scoffed. "When will you learn to trust a rogue's honor?"

I giggled as we returned to Zen's massive home. "Probably never."

The following morning, Zen accompanied me to visit Officer Jared. Upon seeing my teacher behind me, the officer's eyebrows raised. "Red missions already?" he asked. Even though he tried to seem mildly surprised, I felt in his aura it was no shock. His aura was calm as ever.

"She's improved. Even in the past few days. Grace has taken everything I've taught her and maximized it to her ability."

"Impressive," Officer Jared announced, hands folded casually on his desk. "Zen, she may break your record yet."

My mentor's eyes drew into playful slits, a grin forming on his lips. "If there's one person who can get her there, it'd be me. I suppose only time will tell."

Officer Jared's fingers lingered on the top row of scrolls, finally landing on a specific one and holding it out for me. I took it without hesitation, my gaze locked on that beautiful red ribbon.

"Out of curiosity," Zen began as I tried to turn and exit the room, "may I ask how many apprentices are on the red level?"

"Two others," Jared answered simply. "There are now seven in yellow, eight in green."

Zen explained to me once that there were fifteen officers in SI:7, and that count was only in Stormwind. There were also unranked rogues—men I had actually fought beside—whose number was unknown. But still, the new recruits were outnumbering the officers, who were responsible for their development.

Three of whom were undergoing red missions. We were getting more dangerous by the moment.

I never went on missions alone anymore. It didn't bother me much any longer—I had grown so used to Zen's aura that it was a part of normalcy.

"So, what record am I going to break?" I asked Zen before I bothered opening my scroll.

A chuckle rumbled in his throat, the noise drawing my full attention to him. I had to be careful around Zen, or I could easily get overwhelmed by his green eyes. Often they were emotionless, the eyes of an assassin. But sometimes I was lucky enough to catch flickers of emotion.

"My training to be a rogue lasted a mere six months. I spent only two weeks on silly green missions. When I reached yellow missions, the officers noticed I speedily accomplished missions, often finishing up to two a day. The officers demanded I remained on yellow for at least a month or so, convinced Aradar was being too hasty with my development. I was forced to stay on the mid level for those two months. It came to the point where I was slitting throats in my sleep." I shivered at the thought. "Finally, once Aradar convinced the others I was talented, I was allowed to begin my red missions. I would have finished sooner, but Aradar was cautious in allowing me to advance."

"Six months?" I asked. "What's the average length of time for trainees, then?"

"A year or so," Zen answered. "Of course, with the impending war at hand, officers are trying to push through as many new recruits as humanly possible in the least amount of time."

Suddenly I didn't feel very important anymore. I frowned. I was just one of many, after all.

Zen stopped reaching for the door, his eyes landing on my own. "Even with the fast pace placed on all recruits, Grace, you far surpass them in progress and skill. I'm not about to waste my time on some silly half-wit recruit."

He finally opened the door, meaning his eyes slipped off mine. Finally I could find my train of thought as Zen stepped in.

"Why _did _you agree to train me?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Aradar requested it," he answered, as if he had rehearsed this very moment in his head many times.

"The almighty, all-knowing Zen agreed to train a silly know-nothing girl simply because Daddy Aradar said so?" I asked with a smirk.

"No," he answered too quickly. Zen had positioned himself tactically for my little inquiry. His back was to me as he looked for something nonexistent in the cupboard.

"And…?" I implored, leaning in closer, knowing that Zen would sense my determination.

"Did we use all that jam?"

"C'mon," I barked. "I can't be sidetracked that easily, Zen. Just answer. Harmless question."

He sighed, straightening up and turning to me with defeat. "I recruited you because I knew you had talent, and also because you remind me of…me when I was just beginning."

"Really?" I asked.

He nodded. "Anger. Your aura's been cleaned much from when I first sensed you, but it's still there. I know what it's like to have that anger within you so…overwhelming."

For once, I had nothing to really say.

"We all have our sappy stories," Zen stressed with a gesture of his hands. "Aradar taught me to control it. It was the best teaching I ever received. I knew I had to help you with it, too."

Silence engulfed the room for a mere moment, but I couldn't help but ask a question that was burning at the back of my mind. "Aradar _taught_ you to become…an unfeeling assassin?"

It didn't mean to come out so…harsh and demanding. It was a serious question that had plagued my thoughts. Zen was always so in control of himself. Never letting emotion take over his actions or motives. Sometimes I even wondered if he had a heart, the way he paid no mind to women or the beautiful sunset or death…

"I have feelings," he muttered, but his tone completely contradicted the statement. It was cold, unattached as he tried to distance himself from me.

His aura hardened as well. I nearly regretted mentioning it.

Wincing, I took a step toward my room up the stairs. "Sorry," I mumbled. "It wasn't my place."

His hand caught my wrist in a nearly bone-crunching grip. My head snapped to question him, but his eyes were locked on the tiled floor below. The rest of his body language conveyed that he really didn't mean to be forceful; the contact made me hold my breath nonetheless.

"You really believe…I have no feelings?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," I answered automatically, his grip loosening hopelessly on my wrist. "I didn't mean…Forget I even said that," I begged, biting my lip to keep myself from overreacting.

Crying would only worsen the situation. How long had it been since I had a good cry? I was only female…

Before I could see Zen darken any more, I was stalking up the stairs, reaching my bed and burying my face in my pillow. This time, my mouth had run too far. I regretted it, knowing the reaction I had received.

He clearly reacted to the question, meaning he had an opinion on the matter, which would then mean he had feelings. Right?

It just didn't seem natural. For a man like Zen to simply float through life, doing what was needed to get by without a sense for love or passion. Well, he must have felt _hate_. For the enemy, like I felt. If he was capable of hate, certainly he was capable of love.

I wanted so bad to peel off my clothes, to opt for something laced and frilly. Blame my girly feelings for wanting to feel more in their element.

I cradled my own arms, wishing I felt tired enough to sleep. I felt Zen's aura concentrated in his bedroom. It still felt uncomfortable, and his aura only rubbed off mine like sand on skin.

Then it dawned on me that I had a red mission below my room waiting to be opened. Quickly I fumbled out of my large bed, nearly crashing into the wall near the stairs. My hand was around the scroll in no time, fingers itching to rip the ribbon off. I hesitated, holding my breath.

It was a monumental moment for Zen as well. He was responsible for my improvement. I had to face him at some point, so it may as well be now before he had time to mull over my brash comment.

I walked into his room, acting as if I'd never been inside before. Zen was sitting on the edge of his bed, sharpening his dagger. I ignored the silver glow the metal emitted along the wall near Zen. The scroll was visible in my hands, but I ignored it.

Quietly I sat next to him, watching his expertise as he flawlessly sharpened his weapon. After a few seconds, I sighed lightly. "Can I ask you something?" I asked carefully.

He hesitated with his strokes a moment. "Will my answer really matter?" he countered smoothly.

I withheld a roll of my eyes, gripping the scroll in both hands. "You said you were angry. What happened?"

Zen inhaled audibly, the blade before him momentarily disregarded. "I lived in Darkshire with my family. Me, Mother, and Father. Back then, the Scourge wasn't renown. We were there, in our house, when a wave of them attacked the city. Later we learned that it was an experiment, meant to test their capacities. Undead invaded. My mother and father told me run, never look back." He paused, seemingly collecting himself, and I noticed that my hand had instinctually gone to his arm for support. It was just as hard on him to tell it as it was for me to listen. "And I did. Ran through those thick woods, didn't look back. I heard the screams of terror. Sometimes they still ring in my ears.

"From there, I enlisted. I had no family, no money. It was the only way I could survive. The hate I felt for those things only fueled my desire to be a rogue, to be as prepared as possible."

I choked, a single silent tear sliding down my jaw line. "I'm sorry," I muttered again, this time truly regretting what I had done. "That must have been hard to share, and I reopened that scar for you…"

"I'm glad you did," he replied a bit lighter. "At least now you know we're pretty similar." My reply was a nod. Gently Zen's hand moved so that it was placed over my fingers clutching the scroll. "Now, I believe you have something important to open."

My muscles relaxed at his touch. Finally I pulled at the ribbon, its bow unfolding to allow me to open the parchment.

Most of the red missions I completed in the couple of weeks were seek and destroy, with a stress on the destroy part. It involved obliterating groups of people, wiping them off the earth completely.

Zen and I easily completed these at night. It was hard to anticipate a pair of rogues like us. Zen was beyond experienced and I was supernaturally talented with sensing. The only setback was the traveling—we often traveled by horse for a day at a time, to more remote places.

The killing didn't bother me, even though it probably should have. I was an assassin now, trained to act and react. Only thing left was my initiation into SI:7 as a full-fledged rogue.

It was day eighteen of my red level training when Zen and I were awoken by a loud knock on the door. I was clothed in a nightdress, fumbling for a robe as I faltered down the stairs. Zen was already at the door, speaking to the figure on the other side in a low mumble.

I sighed. Officer things. Probably another midnight meeting.

But after a few moments Zen shut the door hurriedly, then bypassing me swiftly and walking straight to his bedroom. The fast pace had me worried. "Zen?" I asked, turning the corner of the banister and following him into his dark room. Inside he was pulling out his gear, throwing it on his bed as he took inventory. "Zen," I repeated, arms folded to hide my indecency, "what's going on?"

"I have to go. There's been a rumor of an attack on Menethil Harbor. An entire company is being sent out at the moment—all classes. But they want a good number of rogues at the helm. I'm one of them." While he explained he scooped up the armor, not accustomed to having to changing behind a screen in his own room, and staggered behind the black divider.

My jaw clenched. "You're leaving," I muttered, eyes unable to focus. The sounds of his gear locking in place met my ears.

"Yes."

"You're leaving me."

He sighed from behind the screen, and then he appeared, helmet resting on his hip. "Grace, its far too dangerous for you to come along. I wouldn't want you coming even if you could."

"Meaning you could die," I answered for myself, voice shaky. "Zen, don't go."

"This is my duty, Grace," he replied lightly. "The danger is part of the job. Besides, I live life on the edge."

"And you'll probably die on it, too," I grumbled, pouting like a little girl.

"Grace, this is your future as well, don't you understand?"

I frowned. "I know. But you'll be out there, and I won't be able to sense you…It's unnerving."

"You're used to me alongside you. I know. But you'll be a rogue soon, and this'll be the norm," Zen explained. I bit my lip, refraining from saying anything that would get me in trouble. He placed his weapons at his side, as well as a few others he hid within his armor. Then he looked at me again, a grimace my only comfort. "Keep an eye on the house, okay? If that Dennis character shows up…"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you my father?"

He scoffed, pulling on his chest armor. "Hardly." We both stepped out of his room as Zen threw a cloak over his figure. In his full gear, Zen looked extremely frightening. "Stay out of trouble, Grace. No missions while I'm gone."

I gasped. "_What_?" I snapped. "Wh-what am I supposed to do, then?" I demanded, fingers balling into frustrated fists.

"Anything but the red missions," he answered coolly. Swiftly he turned to me, his gloved hand resting on my shoulder. His lips parted as if he was to say something, but he snapped them shut in defiance. "Stay safe."

And he was gone. The door was shut behind him, a breeze tussling the curtains. I looked around me almost expectedly, waiting for the house to crumble or dissolve with the absence of Zen. Everything around me remained intact, though.

What could I do? Still in a slight daze, I climbed back up the stairs, returning to my bed in hopes that I'd wake up the following morning and feel Zen's aura once more.


	6. Zen, Pt 2

Sorry if these updates are slow. I'm still in the process of writing, and I don't want to get too far ahead of the updates so that I'm rushing to write anything.

This chapter is a bit of a filler. I apologize. XP

**Zen**

**Book Three, Part Two**

It wasn't so. Dawn arrived, but Zen's aura was still missing.

I dressed quickly, fully intent on leaving the city to keep my mind occupied. I donned a simple dress, fluffing my brown hair in an effort to look more feminine.

It was a good time to visit my mother. I hadn't seen her or Matthew in weeks. I got there easily, so accustomed to the trek now. I knocked on the front door of the small cottage, the action odd. Hadn't I lived here before?

The door flew open, and Matthew's charming face was alit with happiness. "Sis!" he exclaimed, barreling into me with a fierce a hug. I grinned, returning the embrace with a giggle. Mother appeared at the doorway, a smile lighting her features as well. When Matthew had released me, I went to hug Mother. "My darling daughter!" she cooed, hugging me tightly.

"I've got a bit of a break the next couple of days, so I decided to visit," I explained as we sat at the table.

"Well, we're delighted!" my mother exclaimed. She must have been in the process of baking cookies—how she was capable of such at the crack of dawn was beyond me.

We chatted a bit about my progress, which was mostly top secret, when mother asked about Lucas and Dennis.

"I'm not quite sure what they're up to," I answered honestly. "They've been full members of the Alliance army for awhile. Their experiences are far different from mine. Gone constantly." Fear crawled into my mother's features, and I quickly understood her thoughts. "They're _fine_," I stressed. "The pair of them have a will stronger than a herd of ox. You know that."

I stayed for lunch, but left shortly after. A part of me feared getting too close to my family. If I died in the near future, the parting would be less impacting if I kept my distance now. Of course, I didn't plan on dying any time soon, but when taking in consideration the class I had grown dedicated to, anything was possible.

To pass time, I wandered around Stormwind, near the trading center. I nearly ran over a gnome that was making his way to the apple stand. One man bartering jewelry gave me a very devious smirk, but I paid no attention. He didn't know I could incapacitate him with a twitch of my hand.

So what, a rogue wears a dress, and all of a sudden she's to be fawned over?

It was irritating, the way some of them stared. Not just at me: at any girl wandering the center. I grew too angry simply observing the town life around me, and had to retire to Zen's house.

The silence in the house reflected my mind. Blank, lifeless. My senses were thrown off balance ever since Zen left. His aura had become natural to me, almost part of my own self it was so common. Now I felt distorted, out of touch with myself.

I didn't make an attempt to pass the time quicker within the house. Almost mournfully, I put on a black silk nightdress, despite the rays of sun creeping through the curtains' opening. The bright, happy bustle of the streets was starting to make my head pound.

Everything felt foreign to the touch now, without Zen's aura looming over it. So distant, unknown. At times I wondered if I was still conscious atop the bed, my assumption wavering when I zoned out…

I couldn't concentrate on any single object, or it seemed to melt underneath my gaze. The disappearance of Zen's aura, I was afraid, was detrimental to my mental state. His presence had acted as my connection to reality, and without it, where was I?

I laid there, the slit of sunlight that had been peeking through the curtain's openings burning my eyes, until nightfall.

Naturally, I was always more comfortable in the darkness of night. It had always been my therapy. Slowly I rose off the bed, my small hands pulling the curtains away from the window in a rush of exhilaration. Midnight blue skies greeted me, spiced by the glitter of stars. The moon perched above an angular rooftop up ahead.

It wasn't enough to completely occupy me. With more vigor I scooped a cloak from my dresser, threw it on, and was outside in no time. There were still a few people roaming the streets, but they were busy pacing through the city. Besides, they would have a hard time spotting me anyway.

Something had to be done about my sprained senses. I tried to concentrate on any aura I could pick up from the street. Once I got bored with following a few strangers' auras around, I attempted to find Aradar's within the city wall. My eyes were clenched shut in concentration.

At first I couldn't sense him at all, which worried me beyond belief. I automatically assumed that it meant he had gone on this mission to Menethil as well. Panic almost settled in, but then I felt his aura, present in a fog of dozens of unknown auras.

He was at the inn. I smirked. Perhaps his little rogue had experienced Aradar's silly training method, like I had many nights ago. After I sensed my old teacher, however, I couldn't entertain my mind much longer.

A day passed, and another. Still, I couldn't properly function. What was _with _me, that I couldn't even concentrate without Zen's stupid aura?

It had me worried, and the worry was reflected in my body. I didn't have the motivation to eat or get out. I simply stayed inside, trying not to mull over myself but usually failing miserably. Two days, and nothing had improved. I missed Zen's aura so much that on the third night, I slept in his bed.

Not something he was going to approve of when he returned, but I didn't really care.

At least it smelled like him. It wasn't the same as feeling his aura, but at least it kept my senses engaged. Laying there, on top of Zen's sheets (because I didn't dare alter his bed in fear of having him question me later), I wondered what my issue was.

Maybe I hadn't been missing his presence at all. Maybe I had been missing _him_, and my senses were merely telling me so. They were my strength, after all. My mind was terribly good at syncing with my heart's feelings.

Of course, whenever I had reached these points (and believe me, I reached them numerous times in those few days), I dropped the subject. I had grown comfortable around Zen, so much so that my senses were playing tricks with my mind, and that was the end of it.

And besides, I was still angry at him for forbidding me from my red missions. He turned me into a crumpled mess, whose mind was simply running amuck or not running at all.

Day four went by, though a barely noticed from the small comfort of Zen's bed. The black curtains nicely hindered any discern of night or day from behind them.

By day five, I was wrongfully thinking of his death. If Zen were to die, and he left me in this state, what would become of me? The question clicked within me, and as if to defy the thought, I pulled my creaking bones off his bed.

I had to steady myself, fingers gripping a bedpost, as my vision momentarily blacked out. My body had suffered as much as my mind, it seemed.

It didn't matter. I had to occupy my mind, get it working again. I couldn't let myself rot here. If Zen were to die…

I shook my head as I shuffled semi-hurriedly up the stairs. Zen wasn't dead. He couldn't be, it wasn't even possible…

But even so, I slipped on something more suitable for the public—a small white dress with purple lace—and stalked out of the house. The sun nearly blinded me; I had to pause a moment to let my eyes adjust.

It was a quicker journey to SI:7 then I had thought. Somebody had to know something about the mission. In the center of the building was a couple of officers I recognized, but I didn't know their names. I huffed silently, then deciding to go to the first person I would normally go to.

Officer Jared was sitting at his desk, scribbling something. When I arrived he looked up, and an expression of confusion etched across his face. Then he blinked. "Grace?" he asked. "Goodness, girl, I hardly recognized you!"

I grimaced. Perhaps it was the dress. It had to be the dress. I was hoping my physical self didn't look as worn down as my mind did.

"You have to know something about their situation," I whispered. It was hard to talk at a normal volume, and I realized it was because I hadn't used my voice the past few days.

He sighed, immediately understanding who I meant by 'their.' "Grace, I don't know any more than you probably know. No messages have come…"

"How many rogues did we send?" I asked, lips tight in an effort not to frown.

"Thirteen."

I swallowed. "Do you have any idea when they will return?" I asked. It came out more desperate than I had intended, but it may have been an effect of the strain on my voice.

"Hopefully, shortly. It's a day's travel. Don't get too worked up yet, Grace."

How could he say that when _my teacher_ was out there?

"Grace," he repeated, and my eyes snapped to his face. I hadn't realized I was staring at the floor previously. "Go get some rest. Lay down for a bit. You look terrible."

My jaw clenched. All I had been doing the past five days was lay down! I couldn't just fall into my bed again, let my consciousness wander off!

"Let me know if you get any updates," I pleaded, then turned and walked down the spiral staircase to the main level. I had been defeated. I didn't really know what I was expecting walking in, but it definitely hadn't been that.

I was three steps down the stairs of SI:7 when I man that had whipped around the corner nearly knocked me over in his rush up. I gasped, gripping the shoulder he had made contact with, and watched his figure up the stairs.

He was bloodied. What looked like a bandage had been wrapped around his forehead. As he slipped up the small stairs I noticed that he had a limp.

Was he one of the rogues sent to Menethil?

His aura was thick with hasty urgency. Following my intuition, I again stepped up the stairs, attempting to follow the man through the hallway he took.

I heard the panicked conversation before I even turned the corner. "They sent me to give a sort of message. They're trying to head back now, but many of us suffered great injury."

"I see." I recognized the voice belonging to Major General Rillhelm. "And how many casualties has SI:7 suffered?"

There was a pause. I held my breath as well, not completely sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"Eight deaths."

My eyes widened, heart nearly stopping at the number. Eight? Out of thirteen rogues, eight had died? Tears willed themselves to form at my eyes, but I couldn't muster the energy to allow them to fall. My entire attention was stuck on that number.

Eight.

Five survived. Five. And there were fatal injuries. And the odds of Zen being in one of those two categories?

The hum of conversation continued as I remained powerless around the corner. My fists shook at my sides. When the frail messenger and Rillhelm appeared around the wall I was currently stuck to, they didn't seem the least surprised by my presence. Of course, they were rogues. They had felt my aura.

The battered rogue continued past me, but Rillhelm's eyes remained on my figure. Softly, his hand touched my shoulder. "Grace, was it?" he asked, his voice quiet. I nodded, unable to squeak any noise that may introduce a sobbing fit. "Come, child." For once, I didn't mind the name-calling. He shuffled me through the hallway, to the main room once again. Other rogues were beginning to convene here, as if already knowing the return of the others was near.

I was embarrassed, of course. I was on the verge of breaking down, and that was the _last _thing rogues wanted to see out of another rogue. Female or not, I was still a rogue trainee in the eyes of SI:7. "You will realize in time, Grace, that this is part of the routine around here," Rillhelm explained.

I knew that, I wanted to argue. But did it make it any more fair in anyone's eyes?

A few more rogues had arrived at the news of a rumored return. Aradar arrived, his little buddy in tow. He seemed to understand the inner turmoil I was feeling. The older rogue wrapped his arms around me, fingers stroking my hair, before he pulled away and smiled grimly.

Then, over the course of a few moments, I began to feel warm. My spine straightened at the strange feeling. It was comforting, natural…

Zen. There couldn't be any other explanation for the aura I was feeling. I felt whole again, and a smile arrived on my face, probably scaring anyone that was looking at me.

He was alive. That's all I needed to know in order to feel okay again. Without a look around me I stalked outside to the steps. Moments after I moved, others followed, exclaiming, "They're here!"

Suddenly I felt sick, my throat constricted and dry. Zen was alive, but was he well? Four figures were making a slow journey toward us. One was being carried by two others. To my utter relief, one of carriers was Zen.

He was injured. Blood stains were especially concentrated around his torso. A trail of dried blood was painting the side of his face.

Medics rushed to the aid of the one being carried first. He was set on the ground, and the other two hurriedly explained to the doctors that he had fallen in battle. "The Undead…they tried to turn him, I think," Zen offered. His voice…I had almost forgotten what it sounded like. "He's got at least two bites…we weren't sure if…"

I was closer to the maimed rogue than the others currently behind me. He was still conscious, which scared me the most. His body shook, teeth chattering. Panicky sounds that might have been an effort at communication escaped his throat.

He had a bite wound at his throat—unlike mine, his wound was missing a good piece of tissue. Already the skin around it was black, ashy. Another bite was on his arms, also beginning to gray. What had me make a step back was the man's eyes—around the brown orbs a lining of blood red was forming. Suddenly, my joy at seeing Zen was replaced with utter terror for this man.

The medic must have been well prepared. He took out his familiar liquid, applied it generously to a piece of cloth, and placed it firmly on the man's neck.

A scream erupted, so full of pain and agony that I took another step back in fear. The man's body convulsed, and I understood that this rogue was probably suffering a thousand times over what I had when I was bitten.

He lurched in the medic's grasp, his strength so great it took two others, including Zen, to hold him down. The rogue howled, and a sizzling sound greeted my ears. I put a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the gasp I knew had caught in my throat.

As if the pain wasn't enough, the doctor took one more piece of the doused material and placed them on his arm bite. Apparently the pain had heightened so badly that the man was beyond hollers of pain—a growl escaped his lips, and then all he could do was breathe, gulps of air audible over the thuds of his hands pounding stone beneath him.

"His body is weakened," the doctor mumbled, so quietly that I wasn't sure how many people could hear him. "The bites have spread too far, I'm afraid he may not make it through this…"

The sizzling stopped. I looked over the man, whose writhing had slowed to a rock. Zen and another man let go of him, standing up and helplessly watching.

"That's all the good the serum will do," the medic announced. "He's still breathing…I won't be surprised if he dies overnight. But I'll keep an eye on him."

The man was carried up the stairs by a few officers who hadn't been away. With the body gone, nothing was between Zen and I. We locked eyes at the same time, and he mustered a small smile.

I took the invitation too willingly, stepping over an invisible barrier between he and I and wrapping my arms around his waist. With less awkwardness than I had imagined, his arms were around me as well.

I didn't say anything as I simply stood there in Zen's arms. The contact didn't bother me as it would have in the past—my body relaxed now that it knew Zen had returned, after all.

Instead I listened to his breathing as it grazed my neck. Evidence that he was alive and well—it exhilarated me.

I sniffed, shoulders bouncing at the action, and I realized that at some point I had started crying. Quickly I pulled away, determined not to let anyone still surrounding us notice my weakened state. My fingers ruthlessly forced away any hot liquid convening at my eyes, and I managed a small smile at Zen. He seemed more composed than I, but his aura, I now noticed, had shifted at our contact. It was sweeter, more calming, if possible. His hands were still on my shoulders, as if the contact eased him as well.

"You look horrible," he finally stated, the sentence breaking with a small chuckle.

"So do you," I retorted. Some of the crimson stains of Zen's clothing had partially transferred to my white dress, which immediately alarmed me. "Are you hurt? Are you bitten?" My hand pressed against his chest, inspecting the thick armor, and a wince from Zen let me know that his affliction was along his stomach.

Zen rolled his eyes as if he expected the interrogation. "Hurt, yes. Bitten, no." When I shot him an expecting look, he sighed, then hesitantly shrugged off his shoulder and chest armor, handing it to me begrudgingly. Underneath was his cloth shirt, thick with red now that I could see it completely. Once his fingers pulled _that _bloody piece away as well, I gasped. A single slash decorated his normally perfect skin, still bleeding and obviously deep enough to be considered serious.

I cursed. "Could've mentioned that, Zen!" I growled.

"I've had worse," he commented simply. With a grumble I yanked Zen's shirt off his shoulders, only mildly amused by the fact that Zen didn't protest. That's right, let the raging woman make her peace.

"I hope you weren't very attached to this shirt," I muttered, rolling the blotched fabric into a ball and placing it over Zen's cut. "Stupid rogue," I seethed, dragging Zen and his abandoned gear through SI:7 to the medic's quarters. I tried to ignore the motionless body now set on a cot against the far corner.

The doctor looked the pair of us over with worried eyes. "You weren't bitten, were you?" he asked Zen carefully.

"No," Zen replied. "The soldiers that were bitten during the fight were ravaged beyond recognition. Many of our own turned against us," he explained. "We had to kill some of our own ranks."

My eyes focused on the floor in an effort to keep the images of such a battle out of my mind. Our own rogues with red eyes, bloodthirsty growls and claws ready to rip apart at contact.

"Let's see what I have to work with, then," the man encouraged. I pulled the shirt, even more bloody than before, away from the gash.

The medic sighed, his fingers gracefully inspecting the skin. Blood seeped from the corner. "Normally, I'd shuffle wounds like these to the hospital. But since they're probably swimming in battle wounds," he turned to one of his cupboards, setting on the counter various supplies, "I suppose I'll make do."

Zen's wound was washed clean with antiseptic. He had a bruise forming along his jaw line, and a small scrape grazed the skin surrounding his right elbow.

"Grace," Zen mumbled as he watched the other man pour a numbing potion over his wound. It must have been uncomfortable—he gripped the edge of the counter he was sitting on with brute force. "You don't have to stay," he finished, bare chest finally deflating with a much needed exhale.

I fidgeted in my seat across from the other two. "Can't I stay?" I asked. The medic glanced at Zen's reaction, a smile forming on his lips, as he pulled together his needle and thread.

Zen blinked, slightly confused. His pondering gaze mulled over my frail form. Again, his observations on me must have come up short, because he sighed in defeat. "You can stay if you want."

I nodded aimlessly, watching the needle puncture Zen's skin. The rogue didn't seem to feel the thread as it pulled through the layers of skin. In no time the gash was stitched up expertly.

"No extreme movement for a week or so," the expert explained. Zen nodded, but I could tell he really wasn't listening. Slowly he dismounted from his perch, attempting not to emit any signs of discomfort. "Come back in a week," the doctor said as he cleaned up the counter. "We'll see if they'll be ready to be removed then."

With a nod, Zen moved to the door. "Thanks, Brae."

"Just my job, Zen."

We took the needed turns to exit SI:7, Zen's chest piece and tattered shirt still in my hands. I followed behind, still recuperating after such a terrible few days.

Once we were inside Zen turned to me. "You need to eat something," he stated. I bit my lip, remembering that I really hadn't eaten anything except an apple or so here and there over the last few days. I had been afraid I'd be unable to hold down the food. "Have you gotten any sleep?" Zen asked, still without a shirt as he fished through the kitchen pantries.

I sat down at the table. "I tried to," I answered.

Zen made me some bread with jam. I ate slowly, the sweet jam a near overload on my taste buds. The rogue sat across from me, watching me nibble at the food. "Soon, we're going to get some food at the inn. Looks like you need something warm in your system." I nodded, suddenly wary that with Zen back everything would return to what was now seemed normal. "Care to explain why you look so sick?" Zen asked.

I paused, not quite sure if he'd consider me completely crazy if I told the truth.

"I'm not sure," I began safely. "When you left…my body shut down."

A perplexed eyebrow rose. "Because I left?"

"Well, because you were gone," I explained weakly. The bread was momentarily forgotten on my plate.

Silence took over for a moment, and then Zen shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

Wonderful. Looked like my defense was expelled. Time to prepare for the utter embarrassment.

"I think I grew so used to your aura that when it disappeared, it was like I lost a part of myself. It was…scary." When Zen didn't comment, I sighed. "It was like you took a part of me with you. I couldn't function properly…And it was completely out of my control."

"Out of your control?" he repeated.

"Like an addiction, maybe," I offered. Just how _stupid _did I sound? I blushed responsively. "My entire being went through withdrawals. Mind, body, spirit. Demolished."

"All because I was gone…a few days?" Zen asked, with a tone that was borderline amusement and perplexity.

"Laugh all you want, I'm only telling you what you wanted to know!" I hissed. "I have no explanation for my behavior."

"So, it would be a bit unnecessary for me to say it's all in your head?" the man mentioned casually.

I glared. "Do you think I wanted this to happen to me? That I asked for this?"

"No," Zen muttered. "I just didn't expect to return to you looking like this," he said, arms sitting on the table.

"Maybe I was simply worried," I suggested, thinking for the both of us. "You left rather abruptly. Maybe it was just…a shock to my senses."

"Your senses?"

"I got headaches, even," I explained. "I couldn't sense your aura. My senses got all jumbled."

Unexpectedly, Zen's face lit up with an arrogant smile. "Let me get this straight. Your _senses _are addicted?"

"So it seems," I grumbled. "But…"

"So, the senses were begging for…my presence." He chuckled. "But it was in your head? It wasn't…a feeling, per say? Your complexity never ceases to amaze me…"

"_Not a f-_-" I growled in irritation. "I can feel, too, Zen. I know my 'human' qualities missed you, too-"

Deciding I had perhaps said a bit too much, I clapped my mouth shut.

"So…" Zen was trying to dissect my issue as much as I was. "So it's not just your mind. It's your heart as well?"

I didn't have to answer these stupid questions. In fact, what had happened seemed almost petty now. Zen's absence affected me, yes, but was it really something to get worked up about? It would mend in no time, and with practice…

"Grace."

Another growl escaped my throat. "I'm only human. Of course I missed you. I was worried, scared, nervous…you know, experiencing _feelings_."

"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way, then," Zen proposed. His eyes were unreadable. "Perhaps your heart was doing the missing, and it was your silly rogue senses that intensified it for you."

"Whatever it is, it left me incapacitated. My feelings took control. I…I'm sorry for that."

Normally, Zen's hand would rest at my shoulder. But this time his hand, still worn from battle, rested in the space of my neck. I stifled something between a gasp and a sigh. It was as if his aura intensified, if possible, with contact. His touch was far too nice. "Feelings can get in the way on the battlefield," he whispered, soothing voice forcing my gaze to his. Understanding made his eyes glow. I sighed, only relieved that I wasn't considered completely loony. "C'mon, get dressed. Dinner at the inn, my treat."

I smiled, but before I could even think about moving to change, Zen's other hand landed on my shoulder. For a moment we sat there, his sparkling eyes looking over every detail of my face, landing on my cheek, eyes, lips. "I missed you too," he whispered, so softly that I had initially thought I had imagined it.

Before I could properly register the comment, Zen disappeared into his room. In a sort of trance I went to my own room, my entire face beaming once I was alone.

At the inn, Zen placed more food in front of me and him than a starving lion could handle. Steak, potatoes, steamed vegetables. Both Zen and I ate the massive plates of food, joking and laughing. Zen even allowed me a cup of ale, which I gratefully accepted.

Only an hour or so into our time at the inn, other people Zen knew had arrived, sitting next to my teacher. Before I could register what had happened (blame the abundance of ale), tables were pushed along our own, and numerous men had joined our small party.

It was extremely noisy, but the alcohol kind of blocked out the ringing. All that mattered was that Zen was enjoying himself next to me. He chuckled and jested with men I recognized as well as some I did not.

And I felt loads better, anyway. So I had no complaints.

A few hours later, Zen and I were heading home. The male was attached to my hip and clearly had more to drink—I was the one keeping his face off the pavement.

_Surprisingly, Zen can still carry his grace and eloquence_, I mused.

The two of us nearly stumbled into his front door, and I winced.

_For the most part, at least._

I pretty much dropped him onto his bed, careful that his stitches were okay and that his head didn't thump against the headboard. "I'm sorry," Zen mumbled, his hand rubbing his forehead.

"You had a rough couple of days," I said softly. "Don't be sorry."

"But…" He sighed, clearly unable to comprehend beyond exhaustion. "Thanks, Grace."

"Anytime, Zen."

And with that I retired to my own room.

I wasn't sure how the next day would follow. When I woke up, I opted not to change into pants fit for combat. Zen was sitting at the table, a glass of water in his hand. He still wore his clothes from the day before as well.

I didn't know if I should mention my training. Before Zen even glanced at me, though, he lifted my burden. "I won't be in any condition to fight for a week…for your missions," he announced as if I had no idea.

"I can wait another week," I offered.

"No." I pursed my lips, ready to question him, as he continued: "I think you should tag along with one of the other recruits in red training. They have ample protection as well during tasks, so you presence would only help their progress."

Sighing, I couldn't deny the logic in that. I shrugged. "It couldn't hurt."

He nodded. "I've spoken to Cole, the trainer of his red-trainee, Robert. He has agreed to the proposition as well. He's actually quite interested in your abilities…but then again, I tend to brag…"

I growled. "You already talked to him about it? What if I didn't _want _to cooperate?"

Zen smirked. "But you do. Now gear up so we can go meet them."

I also wanted to mention that your reviews are greatly appreciated. Every single one makes me smile...even if it's a bad review XD  
You guys keep me writing! So thnx!

3ritti


	7. Forsaken

This'll be it for a little bit...because I'm currently suffering writer's block. Woe is me. I have to push through this scene I'm locked out of right now in this story, and then the updates shall continue! Don't worry, it won't take that long. =]

Things are getting intense. I said last chap was a filler. So here's the good stuff.

**Forsaken**

**Book Four, Part One**

Maybe Zen knew me better than I thought, I mused as I dutifully threw on my pants and blouse. My armor was still ugly compared to Zen's, although at least now it matched somewhat. Shoulders, chest, boots, wrists, even gloves for my hands. But what I hated most was the helmet Zen had gotten me.

It was decent looking, as far as lightweight helmets were concerned, but I couldn't _stand_ how it set on my head.

My hair had to be put up, or Zen would grumble. Helped the whole 'incognito' effect, he would argue. But the bun caused the helmet to set funny, so that the crown of my skull hurt under pressure but the lower half hung loosely.

"I can barely see in this," I hissed one time. Did Zen even pretend to hear the complaint? No.

And why? Because one, it protected my head, a vital part of my body, so they tell me. And two, it was a lot harder to infer that I was female. He made sure my chest piece now produced a similar result.

So, now I only looked like a scrawny, pre-pubescent boy instead of a woman. Charming.

My daggers I had since my training with Aradar sat loyally at my hips as I trotted down the steps. Zen changed into clothes more casual.

We met the other two at SI:7. Cole, I realized once we arrived, was the rogue I had often seen hanging around Zen. Especially the night I was playing hide-and-go-seek with Aradar. When Zen and I walked into the room, his face lit up with a smirk. "Zen, Grace!" He welcomed us as if we were all good friends. He had dark hair, almost black, which acted as a sharp contrast against Zen's platinum blonde. His apprentice, Robert, was brown-haired, but just as tall as his teacher. Robert's brown eyes were emotionless, concentrating on the world around him.

Which were different from Zen's, I mused, so suppose Zen did actually have real feelings…

"Grace, this is Robert," Cole mentioned, motioning towards his pupil. I mustered a smile as I shook the boy's hand, but pulled away quickly when I realized the boy really didn't care for the socialization.

"How's he doing, Cole?" asked Zen as the pair of them pulled slightly away. I sighed, realizing that it only meant Robert and I were supposed to chat.  
He didn't seem the type to make small talk.

"He's strong. Determined. Takes it very, very seriously."

I heard Zen chuckle, catching my full attention as well as Robert's. "Well, these two should be a perfect balance, then." My eyebrow rose, and Robert tried to hide a scoff.

And after that moment, I decided that I would do everything in my power to prove my worth to the pair. For me, yes—but also for Zen.

He had more confidence in me than anyone else, including me.

After a bit more conversing, Zen seemed comfortable enough to let me loose with the other two. He gave me a good pat on the armor on my shoulder before walking off, probably to mope in his house.

Without any inflection whatsoever, Robert explained our mission. Only one other rogue, whose name escapes me, would come along. It was another typical task given to us by SI:7.

I could say after our first mission together that Robert was very skilled. It didn't take a professional to know the boy meant business. That didn't deter my effort though—I was always right behind him, ready to pounce like a cat.

Since they weren't necessarily my quests, I acted more as backup like the other rogues. Robert seemed to like that submission.

We were always dealing with Undead. Forsaken beings. But as the weeks progressed, it wasn't hard to observe that the _things _were getting more developed, advanced.

A couple of times I had to make up for a silly error of Robert's. No one ever mentioned the fact. One time, on our third mission together, we were sent to completely extinguish an Undead camp off the Western Plaguelands. It was only a camp of about a dozen of the Undead. It would have been much easier if Robert had processed the situation a bit more.

It was dark, so Robert, being the arrogant little rogue he was, decided to stealth through the camp of six tents. It's too bad that Undead, naturally, are a lot better at detecting an inexperienced rogue. Of course, I could have been a bit biased—I always had a natural knack for staying hidden.

He crept through, right between these six tents, attempting to sneak up on a pair that were sitting aimlessly at a campfire. Even Cole looked anxious as three of us looked on. My hands remained clenched on my daggers.

I felt the Undead soldier's cold aura darken before Robert even knew he had been spotted. I cursed, not even bothering to make sure they were following when I sprinted towards Robert.

The skeletal figure hissed at Robert, then drawing his sword and swinging it back for a lethal blow. "Damn it!" I growled in a low rumble, tossing a pair of throwing daggers at the skeleton. Of course, it wasn't enough to kill, but at least he was able to stagger back in surprise, effectively saving Robert's head.

The other watchman now turned, immediately meeting Robert in the eye. Robert, now fully aware that he was vulnerable, took his stance.

And so, four of us were responsible for killing the dozen or so Undead with as much speed and silence as possible. It was done, of course, but it would have been a lot easier if the boy I was stuck with wasn't bigheaded.

I told him so after that night. "Way to go," I muttered, wiping some blood off of my neck. "What were you thinking?" I asked as the four of us left the camp swiftly. Our horses were over the hill.

"I had them! Then you barged in!" he seethed.

My aura flared. "No." I stopped, turning on the boy with a flash. "No. He spotted you _long _before I stepped in. You didn't sense that? That you were completely open?"

"I wasn't!"

"You barged in there, not bothering to use your _skills_," I growled. "We could have taken out each tent one by one _easily_!"

"I was hidden!" he defended. "I still had the upper hand!" I glared.

"_Please._ You were being reckless. What happened to your distractions? Your vanish? We could have had them ambushed without a blink-"

"Okay, you two," Cole warned with little emotion. "Let's just get out of here."

"B-" I bit my lip. Cole was the teacher on these missions, and a command from him was equal to one from Zen. So I said no more as we rode swiftly towards Ironforge.

On the way home from my third mission with the pair, Cole actually began to make light conversation with me. "How is Zen's training?" he asked.

I smirked. "Good. He's a good teacher."

"Well, he's definitely passionate about what he's doing with you," Cole surmised. I frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I give him details about how you're doing with us," he explained as we trotted along. That made sense, since I couldn't see Zen comfortable with being completely in the dark about my progress. "He asks questions. Makes sure you're improving."

I paused, curious. "Do you think I'm doing well?"

He chuckled. "There's no doubt about that, Grace. Don't worry." Smiling, I noticed how Robert seemed to go rigid in his saddle. It only widened my grin. "Zen has definitely done very impressive work with you. Sometimes I grow curious as to where his fixation on you came from."

Fixation? My face contorted in thought. Since when was I considered a 'fixation?'

"He's been…" He breathed. "Dare I say it…happier? Since he's trained you."

My lips puckered. Could rogues be happy?

"Well, then I'm glad. At least he's happy." Cole suppressed a chuckle, and the conversation was dropped.

Returning to Zen was always a good feeling. Even through these times that I had been away from Zen, I had known he was safe within the walls of Stormwind, I still missed him. Good evidence if Zen wanted to prove my heart missed him, not my senses.

He'd always interrogate me, and I'd always begrudgingly explain to him every detail I could possibly imagine. Including the moments Robert would slip up, leaving me to cover his senseless behind.

Zen would merely smirk. "You're better than you thought you were."

By day five, Zen was fairly confident with my abilities in this trio. "You're doing well, I hear," he said as we sat at the dining table.

"Its hard to excel when there's a fellow rogue trainee that only wants me to fail," I grumbled. I was always claiming Robert was out to kill me, in order to quicken his initiation into SI:7. Zen would merely chuckle.

"Well, I hear you're great. And I have no doubt that you are," Zen said. "You're initiation isn't far away, Grace. Keep this up, and by the time these stitches come out," he smirked, "you won't have any need for me."

It was day six of Zen's stitches, and the fourth mission the three of us would be performing together. Once Robert got his mission from Officer Jared, he climbed down the stairs with a grin. "This one's going to be good," he announced, holding up the scroll as if it would defend his statement.

"Why?" I asked.

"This one requires three other reserves to accompany us, and Officer Jared specifically stated it was urgent and to be treated seriously."

I smirked, my fingers flexing in my palms. "Good."

The others met us in no time, and we set off shortly after noon. It would take until nightfall to reach the Plaguelands.

We rode in silence, except for Robert's explanation of the mission. Apparently, the man I had murdered eons ago that was a known tool of the Scourge was only beginning of research the Scourge had instigated. They were experimenting with new ideas, new poisons, new weapons, and SI:7 wanted the head intellects responsible knocked out as soon as possible.

Our target went by the name Clad. He was Undead, a Forsaken, who was working with potions and poisons to aid the Scourge's attack. We didn't have many details about his work other than they must be stopped. He was a mage in the past life, and his talents hadn't faded in his rise to undeath.

He was our prime target, but it was a near guarantee that he'd be guarded.

The cave was very hidden—we nearly missed it in our travels. Silently we crept closer to the mouth of the cave, weary of anything that may prove to be a challenge. Under the cover of complete darkness, we had the advantage.

Robert crept in first, as was normal. I followed right behind—Cole had understood after our first mission that I had a talent for sensing. I was the eyes of the entire group. "I sense several," I whispered. "They're farther ahead. Keep your guard up."

Six rogues could handle seven, eight. I didn't have any doubts about this mission.

When we did arrive at the heart of the layer, it was much like the catacombs incident. Books were littered everywhere. Herbs were sitting on a far table, and the center table carried many tubes and beakers meant to hold toxic liquids.

There were eleven guards for this thing. Clad, our target, was donned in purple rags as he tittered with numerous bottles of colorful potions at the table.

We took a few hesitant steps forward. Reading Clad's aura, I sensed a feeling of alarm well within him. My arm shot out, holding Robert back in warning.

He was always going straight for the kill. What were we to do about the eleven others? Hope they didn't hear us slit their keep's throat?

But once again, Robert's eagerness proved to be a hindrance. He spun around, his silence damaged, as he batted my arm forcefully away. With shocked eyes, I tried to convey the surprise I couldn't verbalize. Was he _that_ small-minded, when eleven monsters were merely feet away ready to pounce on any sign of a breech?

Robert's movement no doubt caused a stir in one of them, because a feral growl erupted from behind him. I shook my head, still amazed at how little Robert knew with how much experience he had.

A sharp inhale broke my searing glare on Robert. Clad still had his back to us, but his body grew stiff as if he was a cat sensing danger. "Yess," he hissed. "I smell visitorss." He spun around all-too-quickly, and his eyes landed directly on the two of us. "Guards!" he growled. "Extinguish these ssilly humans!"

All eleven of them stumbled to Robert and me, and all of a sudden we were at a disadvantage. My daggers were drawn, ready to strike, but too many were ready to pounce on us. The other four rogues were behind us, also ready, but they hadn't been detected yet. If they could only stay hidden until we had a fair element of surprise…

One guard managed a good slash at Robert, and he dodged; but Robert, of course, ended up barreling into me. I hit the left wall, my helmet the only prevention from a cracked skull. Before we could suffer any casualties, however, Clad hissed, a bony hand lifting up as he stood rigid in place. It must have been a form of communication between him and the guards, because the hulking skeletons stopped in their place, effectively confusing all five of us. We were highly outnumbered, though, so a halt on the Undead's part meant we were still as well.

His tongue was like a snake's: it flickered in the air, as if he was smelling with it. Then, if it was possible for a Forsaken being, he grinned. "Bring that rogue forward," he articulated, a white finger landing on me. I pulled myself up off the wall, ready to fight back, when I realized there were three of them coming to apprehend me. If I were to attack now, our fight was as good as lost.

"No!" I screamed as sharp claws latched at my upper arms. I attempted to pull away from six iron-clad grips, but it was pointless. My daggers fell from my grips, the metal clinking against stone floor as my two weapons skittered away.

"Make sure that boy doesn't go anywhere," Clad added as an after-thought. Without hesitation there were two others holding Robert in place.

I sensed Cole rushing forward, attempting to break out of hiding, but I growled a "No!" toward the back of the cave, effectively stopped him in mid-pace.

I was so powerless within the arms of my captors that my legs were merely skimming the stone below me. Kicking didn't do much good either, I noted, since my legs weren't even long enough to reach any sort of appendage near me.

"Let me go!" I shrieked. The look in Clad's eyes as I was brought forth promised nothing good on this end of the bargain. Finally, I was right under his glare, panting and wincing at the claws now sinking into my skin.

"Remove the helmet," he began, watching as it was forced off of my head none-too-gently. My hair came loose; it fell to my shoulders, the sweat on my forehead now meeting cold air. "And…the chest piece," he added.

"_No_!" I repeated, again trying to pull out of the arms of three monsters. _Nothing _good could come of these orders. The armor was easily cut loose though, leaving my cloth shirt as the only line of defense. I was so vulnerable, such an easy target now, that I wondered why the rogues who came with me were still here, watching me get prepared for death.

Clad paused a moment, tongue looming over my body, sensing something. Then he inhaled, nose burying itself in my hair. I loosed a growl so feral I had initially thought it was of Undead origin. "How interesting…you survived the bite of an Undead," he purred. I tried to pull away from his face. His breath was unbearable, and his voice alone caused me to writhe away. "I'm curiouss…"

He turned quickly, giving me a moment to breathe, but came back with a bottle of liquid in his hand. "This is a synthetic reproduction of what was once coursing through your body," he explained. The liquid was a brilliant purple, seemingly so harmless in the round bottle it was contained in. "It's more or less…Undead venom." My eyes widened in panic, landing on the bottle unwillingly. "Of course, it's unnatural, so I've been tweaking its effect on the body." His eyes darkened into a crimson, teeth seemingly sharper as he grinned menacingly. "And I'm curious as to its effect…on ssomeone with such a bite. The process could sspeed up, or magnify…"

"Don't come near me with that thing," I growled, still locked in place. "I'd rather die than become a Forsaken such as you."

"Aw, don't be so disapproving so fasst," he cooed. "Your face is far too pretty for the white pallor of an Undead. This gas has different effectss from its counterpart. Your skin won't gray, and your insidess won't rot." A deep chuckle escaped the remains of his throat. "But you _will_ belong to the Scourge."

"I belong to the Alliance," I stated.

"First," he piped, tossing the bottle carelessly up and down in his hand. "It works on cutting off your senses. Cuts you off from _your _world. And then, it reprograms them, for _our _world. You'll be a puppet, and your sstrings will be the Scourge's."

He drew in closer, my head crooning back in an attempt to stay away from contact. I realized that he was explaining this so willingly because he didn't think there'd be any consequence. Clad expected no other survivors. And what would become of me?

I shuddered, mind whirling at the thought of our near future. "The Scourge will not control me," I seethed.

Clad cackled, his head cocking back with the action. Then he bent over towards me, potion inches from my face. "That's a fascinating hypothesis," he hissed. "Would you care to test it out?" He drew back. "Perhaps your little friend would like to watch before we end his life. Or, maybe I'll have my new puppet do the dirty work for me."

"_Nobody _touches him."

"Ssoon you will be oursss," Clad purred, his cold fingers grazing my chin. The statement seemed tainted with a hunger for something other than blood. "And then you'll be more than willing to draw human blood."  
My jaw locked, preventing me from growling any more lashes that would propel the encounter to whatever demise waited me.

"It may be a bit painful," he announced with a fake sigh of pity. "But if this gass is as lethal as I sssurmount, than the means definitely justify the endss."

"All talk but no walk," I snarled.

Clad grinned, and before I could even sneer in defiance, the bottle was falling from his grip. "Oops," he gasped.

"_Help her_!" It registered to be Robert's voice, but I no longer was paying attention to anything except that glass bottle, tumbling slowly to the floor.

It made contact with the hard surface below us, the glass exploding out of its shape and scattering across the floor. The liquid portion bubbled, an acid sizzling as it contacted solid. But that wasn't what scared me—what wasn't liquid had become a gas, a deep violet color, that was slowly rising from the mess below me. Out of fear of the unknown, I fought against anything that was rooting me in place. My legs thrashed, my arms tensed, my shoulders tried to gain any leverage possible on the monsters surrounding me; but it meant nothing. In no time the gas had risen to my eye level, and the agony hit me all at once.

A scream flooded out of my mouth, my eyes burning through a purple film as I was forced to gaze at the monster who had done this to me. The pain was too great, forcing my eyes to close in reflex.

My shoulder felt as if it was being branded repeatedly, a rod held on it at maximum temperature. The fire quickly shot through my entire body, my skin feeling as if it was melting from the inside-out.

The guards had released me at some point—I felt another pain, although not at all comparable to the fire within my body, shoot through my knees. My last worry was a bit of glass shards digging into my skin. I collapsed, hands landing on the ground as well with a pierce of discomfort.

My body began to shake, the unbearable sting now concentrated at my eyes and shoulder. I was absorbed in utter pain, unable to even force my eyes open.

Auras flared around me. The other rogues must have acted, because roars of anger were close to drowning out my spurts of screams. My right hand flew to my bite marks, willing my dull fingernails to rip the foreign scar out of my skin. It did no good. I was still floored with indescribable suffering, my screams my only mocking comfort.

I wasn't sure how long had passed before I felt a freezing hand touch my back. I shrieked, not knowing if the presence behind me was friend or enemy.

It scared me, I could process through the pain, that I couldn't sense anything like I used to. "Grace." Cole's voice. I could still hear, still feel the shards of glass below me as my fingers coiled at odd angles, my mind's attempt at willing them to relax.

"Leave her," Clad hollered, "she'll be ourss in time. Let them keep her awhile."

I gasped for air, my throat as inflamed as the rest of my internal structure, and it was starting to hurt when I groaned. But my terror couldn't be released in any other way—momentarily I could only flashback to that man a week ago, moaning loudly and unable to control himself…

"We need to hearth her out of here." I whimpered as who I thought to be Cole turned me onto my back, the crunch of glass apparent beneath me.

"Make it stop," I begged. I felt sweat as it formed on my forehead, on my neck, along my lower back.

"That might compromise the mission…" Robert's voice. I meant to growl at the boy, but it only surfaced as another scream.

"She's going to turn if we don't get her treated immediately," Cole explained coolly. "One hearth to Stormwind isn't going to give off too much suspicion."

I was still writhing in pain beneath their conversation. I had yet to open my eyes, they burned so bad. At that point, I would have opted to gouge them out had the offer been there.

_Kill me_, I wanted to scream. _End this._ But I couldn't shape my mouth to those words. I couldn't give up on myself that easily.

My legs were bent in odd angles below me, arms above me in the same fashion. Something was placed in my hand, warm to even my touch. "Grace, it's your hearthstone. You have to hold on to this, okay?"

"I can't…"

Can't what? My thoughts pushed through thickets of pain, attempting to process anything past the waves of stimulus coursing through my body.

"You hold this, Grace, or you die," Cole insisted. His hand left mine, probably to get his own stone, leaving my shaking hand to fend for itself.

My crooked fingers acted as a cage around the stone. I kept the hearthstone close to my chest, hoping that in the event the pain grew too intense and my fingers flexed that it would remain on top of my body.

I shook, the intensity in my shoulder so great that it was almost too exhausting to even acknowledge it. It felt like eternity passed us as I waited for the hearthstone to take effect.

Before that moment I had never been transported. The torment my body was undergoing before the stone was one hundred times more intense during the transport. My body felt disjointed, twisted, meshed together incorrectly.

I was screaming again when the city sounds of Stormwind sifted to my ears. Utter pain, immeasurable agony…

Cole scooped me up into his arms. I had no idea where we had materialized, and I still was unable to open my eyes. My muscles seared with every movement, but my body's reaction to the burning within was to twist away, try to escape the affliction.

"I'm taking her to the hospital," Cole spoke too loudly. "Go get Zen and Brae. _Go_!"

"C-c-"

Cole flew to the hospital. I was jostled every which way, but it was of little difference when placed in the same realm of the flames consuming my body.

I felt the soft surface of a bed beneath me, notifying me that we had reached the hospital. Words flew out of Cole's mouth, so fast that I couldn't concentrate on their meanings. I laid there, gasping, for who knows how long.

And I didn't sense Zen's presence when he arrived. The only reason I knew he was there was because in a panicky voice he demanded to know what was going on. More mumbles. I was panting, still searching for some form of comfort. It only grew worse with effort. My fingers had latched onto the soft sheets below me, twisting and pulling on the fabric. "Z…Zen," I managed to moan. "Zen," I repeated, a bit more convincingly.

He was at my side in no time, his hand moving on top of one of my own that was so disfigured the joints ached. It felt a bit better, and my other hand raised, searching for a face that was so familiar…

His hand led my palm to his cheek. I moaned, the pain still not anywhere near tolerable as my shoulder felt smelted to the bed below me. "Zen, make it stop," I begged. "It hurts…so much…"

"We're trying," he croaked, sounding as vulnerable as I felt. Cold tears were pooling beneath my eyes, a momentary relief to a fire that wouldn't subside. I could hear Cole's whirling voice, still trying to explain to Zen and Brae what had happened.

"Her bite?"

I gasped, a shriek getting caught in my throat as a spike of torture left me breathless. "Grace," Zen prompted, his hand resting on my cheek. "Grace, look at me."

"I can't," I choked. "I can't open my eyes…"

"Grace." Zen's voice pinched off, a pain in his tone that I immediately caught. "Grace, your eyes are open…"

My body shuddered, ears ringing.

"N-no," I mumbled. I saw black. Darkness. My eyes couldn't possibly…

My shaky hand that had been beneath Zen's touch now rose, every particle of my arm enflamed with resistance as it moved. The hand that belonged to me hovered over my face, then two fiery fingers lingered below my eyes, attempting to feel the lashes. My throat moaned in hesitation at the effort to concentrate, to push through pain and will something into action, but I held my fingers steady.

I tried to blink. The lashes of my eye fanned against my tender fingers. A wail of disbelief rang in my throat, causing another searing wave to grip me. "No. Nono…" My fingers peeled at my eyelids, clearly lifted off my eyes, and I still saw nothing. Zen's face was nowhere in my line of vision, only black.

"I'm_ blind_!" I screamed. My hands, now at the will of my anguish, crashed into the sheets below me, effectively pulling my chest forward in a lurch. I assumed it to be Zen's arm that wrapped across my stomach, holding me in place before I could do real damage.

I squirmed in the constraints of the bed, the shock, pain, and disbelief pushing my body past its limit.

"Get her under control, Zen! You're the only one that can!"

Zen's hand was back on my cheek. I tried to force myself away, keep everyone as far away from me as possible, but his arm was still bracing my stomach. "Grace, I've got you," he whispered gently. "Please relax, please…"

"It hurts," I forced through clenched teeth, frustrated that no one understood the magnitude of pain I was suffering.

"Talk to me, Grace," Zen soothed.

I whimpered through my teeth, wishing to look into Zen's eyes and understand what he was thinking, or sense what he was feeling. "I can't see," I began weakly. "I can't sense anyone's aura here. It's…" I gasped, body rigid as a new blast of fire burned through my body. "It's starting. It's starting…"

"The transformation," Cole whispered. Sobs erupted, sending jolts of pain through my chest.

"Oh, no," came Brae's voice as Zen's fingers massaged my temple. "Cole, do you know anything of what's caused this?"

"Clad described it…I can repeat everything I heard…"

A door shut, meaning the pair of them probably left to ponder on whatever was tearing me up from the inside-out.

Zen's fingers lifted, his arm loosening around my stomach, and I groaned my dissatisfaction. "What?" he asked.

"Don't leave me," I begged, reaching out for his arms once more.

"I haven't moved, Grace."

"Wh…" My hand flew to my stomach, where something must have been clinging onto my waist. "I…I can't…feel…The pain is leaving…"

Zen tried to hide the pain in his voice as a crack of shock broke through his throat. "Stay with me, Grace. Please."

"If I turn," I whispered now, my throat was so weak, "you'll destroy me," I begged.

"Don't ask me-"

"_They can't take me_!" I roared. "I belong t-to," I had to pause to catch my breath, it was terribly difficult to find the will to even inhale. "I belong to the Alliance. They can't t…take me."

I could hear Zen's breath as it drew closer to my ear, though I couldn't feel its warmth graze my neck. "They're not going to take you," he articulated, the urgency in his voice so pure that it sounded like a promise he wouldn't go back on.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I think I screamed, or cried, or something—but I couldn't hear it. Couldn't feel it.

My senses had shut down, and I was left completely alone in the depths of my mind. At first, my only thoughts were of death, of accepting it. I could be satisfied with my life if I would die now. If I could die honorably. If Zen would at least let me part with dignity still intact.

That was all I asked for myself.

I wished that Mother would take the news well. That Lucas would live on, to prove to her that she hadn't lost her _entire _family to the Scourge.

It wasn't too bad, succumbing to the blackness within my subconscious. The pain couldn't break through the barrier between me and reality—it was left outside, with my body. Briefly I wondered if my body was still suffering, still shuddering at invisible flames that had been threatening my sanity.

But I surmised that it didn't matter at this point. Maybe I was dead already. Were these the final moments, after the body dies but before the brain stops functioning?

I hoped Dennis would forgive me. Understand that it wasn't my plan to end my future or ruin his.

And Zen. He could move on. He'd find another recruit, with just as much talent as his previous. Perhaps find a girl who could adore him as much as I had.

Silly, petty thoughts I could will but not enforce.

I waited for everything to end. I waited.

Finally, the blackness flashed, the first change I had witnessed.

_You are close to finished._

My mind was incapable of feeling, but if I could pinpoint an emotion to what rushed over my conscience at that moment, it would have been fear.

Whoever was now in my head, it wasn't good. It was the other side. The Scourge. The process was still going on.

Why. Wasn't. I. Dead.

Who was permitting this in the outside realm? Who was letting this thing take over my mind? It would start here, work through my every sense until I was completely turned, completely different.

Completely evil.

Leave me alone. Let me die.

_Having you die will not help our cause. Your mind has proved very powerful. Very…precious…indeed._

Kill me. Somebody kill me. Could I will myself from the inside to kill myself? Was that possible at this point?

_You are nearly turned. Nearly mine…_

You won't take me. They won't let you.

A midnight blue color crept into my mind, replacing the blackness. If I could growl, I would have. No. It wouldn't happen. Zen and the others wouldn't allow it.

From the distance, a cackle echoed.

And then a figure, fuzzy and morphed at odd angles, materialized in my head. His armor was bulky, sword an icy blue as it pointed at me.

_You are to be under Arthas' control._

I wanted to pound at something, bang loudly and break through whatever was becoming of me. But how was I supposed to break out of my own conscious?


	8. Forsaken, Pt 2

Well, I tried to sneak in here without causing too much of a stir….

I'm updating! Thanks to quite a few reviews I've gotten despite my obvious lack of updating, I've gained the motivation to update! Thanks to SO many readers who have encouraged me to do so!

You're not here for excuses. All I'm gunna say is, nursing school…consumes your soul =]

So there's PLENTY more where this came from, so have no fears! I'm off this spring semester from school, so I'm sure there will be (plenty) more updates! Thanks so much everyone!

**In case you need a refresher, last time:**

And then a figure, fuzzy and morphed at odd angles, materialized in my head. His armor was bulky, sword an icy blue as it pointed at me.

_You are to be under Arthas' control._

I wanted to pound at something, bang loudly and break through whatever was becoming of me. But how was I supposed to break out of my own conscious?

**Forsaken**

**Book Four, Part Two**

Then, everything snapped to black again, and I suddenly became aware of breathing. Of humming.

I heard a hiss, probably my own, puncture the other low rumbles of sound. "Grace." I was breathing—I could hear my gasps, still ragged and irregular. Was I turning? Was I slipping away?

I still had my own thoughts, my own stream of consciousness…

"Grace."

My name was Grace. I remembered everything about my life, everything clear as a bell. _What's going on? _I wanted to say, but the only thing I heard was a long, weakened moan.

I belonged to the Alliance, I belong to the Alliance. I belong to the Alliance.

I gasped, a pain suddenly developing throughout my body, as if a numbing poison was beginning to wear off. The pain wasn't as extreme as it had been previously, it had dulled to something very close to bearable.

There was still darkness, but I could feel a warm hand on my cheek, moving to my neck, my bite marks. My hand moved at my will, I realized with excitement, and it went to grasp the hand now at my collarbone. "Zen," I whispered without even having to hear his voice.

"Oh, bless the Light," he uttered. "She's waking up!" he called, and I could hear a number of footsteps get closer to me.

Suddenly I was worried. "How long…was I gone?" I asked.

"Four days."

"Four…" I shook my head in disbelief. It had happened so fast in my mind, so quickly. "I still can't see," I said, gripping Zen's hand as if it was my lifeline to this world.

"It'll return, I promise," Zen whispered. "The process is reversing. Brae is a _genius _and managed to find antidotes to whatever synthetic poisons were bleeding into your system. Every single one he must have nailed."

"Reversed," I breathed. "But I was turning," I mentioned. Suddenly worried for the people around me. "No!" I willed myself to shoot up from my laying position, but Zen's arms had a tight lock on me once again. "He was _in my head_!" I explained with panic. "The Scourge was there! It was happening! It's dangerous!"

"If you had turned, you wouldn't be yourself right now," someone mentioned from further away. It could've been Brae's voice. "You'd have no recollections whatsoever."

I hesitated. "But there's still…a chance…"

"You're safe," Zen soothed. "You're alive."

The darkness surrounding me began to brighten to a burnt orange, and I winced at the change. "Is it…daytime?" I asked a bit rhetorically. Zen chuckled.

"Yes."

I nodded. "Good." Blinking hard, I forced tears to form under my eyes in an effort to speed up the process of sight. My eyelids lifted, and I was able to see figures—blurs and colors, but figures.

"It's coming back," I managed to utter in my shock. Another few blinks, and my sight had returned. It was hard to see at first with such bright colors surrounding me in my sensitive state, but it was better than no vision at all.

Zen was at my side, so perfect as he stooped over my form. Now I was crying out of happiness, finally convinced that everything was okay, was going to be okay. "Everyone looks the same," I exclaimed, relieved that I hadn't been altered in any way by our enemy.

"Everyone but you," Zen mumbled. My eyes widened, horrified that I had taken up pale, bony traits. "Calm down, Grace. It's just…your eyes."

"My eyes?" The pain had nearly left, my fingers grazing my cheek. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"We'll show you in a bit. How are you doing?" Zen asked. Brae was right behind him, I now noticed, observing every phase of my recovery with exciting eyes. I hadn't really paid any attention to anyone but Zen…

"I'm almost perfect," I answered honestly. "But I can't…sense any auras…"

Zen patted my leg. "Then we'll wait. Everything else has gone according to plan." I nodded, unable to _not _trust Zen. He always pulled through for me, never made promises he couldn't keep.

At that moment, I was completely taken with him.

My final sense hit me like a frying pan over the head. I winced, the pressures of so many different auras surrounding me overbearing as I tried to adjust.

"Damn," I muttered, rubbing my head. "Can't any of you calm down a bit? Your auras are knocking me over."

Chuckles rumbled through the large room. I recognized many of the auras. Most of them from my times with SI:7. Everything that was stolen from me was now properly returned, and I was extremely grateful. "Brae." I motioned for the doctor to come closer, and when he did, I hugged him so tightly I thought he'd break. "I owe you my life now," I said as I pulled away. "Twice over."

Brae smiled. "I'm just glad you've come back to us. Oh," he turned around, to another bed. "Some good has come from your trauma. The rogue that had been bitten multiple times over a week ago…I decided that since the synthetic has to be close to the actual venom, the anti-serum had a chance at working."

I stood, hobbling a bit across the room to look at the man. He was breathing, at least. "It's a slow process, but we may be on to something."

"At least I didn't suffer for nothing," I commented lightly.

"Cmon, Grace," Zen's hand went to my shoulder. "You need rest, and I'm betting you'd rather sleep in your own bed."

I nodded, the idea of leaving this behind me sounding excellent. We left without much more ado, saying goodbyes where necessary. Of course, Brae told me to stay very close in touch, should anything out of the ordinary occur.

With a sigh I followed Zen into the house, exhaling in comfort. "I've never been so excited to see this house," I muttered.

"Care to see the minor change?" Zen asked, motioning toward the mirror. I pursed my lips, preparing for the worst, and finally stepped closer to the reflection.

My hair was matted and messed up from days on that bed, and bandages I hadn't noticed before were wrapped around my legs and even hands. They were probably evident on my back as well, as I recalled that glass gnashing at my skin. My bite, instead of the soft pink, was now a violet purple, maintaining the same shape it once had. I zoomed in closer to the mirror, noticing that from far away my eyes weren't any different. But closer up, the brown was broken by specs of purple.

It wasn't ugly. In fact, it was a bit enchanting, magical. I gazed at my own eyes for quite a length of time, perplexed by the mosaic. "That's amazing," I whispered.

Zen stood behind me, his eyes on my reflection as well. "It's definitely impressive."

"What if…that's evidence…that something inside me changed…as well?" I asked, unsure. His hands went to my shoulders as his gaze remained on our reflection.

"Grace, you're back. I almost lost you," he paused, "but you're back." We stayed there, simply standing motionlessly as I wrapped my mind around the fact that I hadn't died, that I was able to stay and live another day, hour, minute. Finally, Zen sighed. "You need to get some rest, Grace. You were…It was an intense handful of days. For both of us."

I nodded, watching in the mirror as Zen stepped back and walked into his room silently. For a few moments I stood there, alone with myself, until I thumped up the stairs leading to my bed. Mechanically I searched through my clothes, finding a nightdress that replaced my bloodied garments with ease. I rinsed my hair carefully, pouring the pitcher of water over my tresses. The water was ice cold, but it wasn't too much of a bother—my body had been overheating the past few days, a bit of a chill could do it some good.

I dried my hair with the towel, my brown hair easily falling to my mid-back as my bangs fell into their dutiful positions. For a moment I simply gazed at my own bed, the events that zipped by the past few days finally repeating themselves in my head. Most vivid was the memory of Zen's voice, the worry that had taken control of his usual demure attitude. And the tone of his voice when he basically promised me my survival, even though I was convinced I was facing death.

Silently I padded down the stairs yet again, easily done since I knew the creaky spots like the back of my hand. I walked around the corner, to Zen's door, where I clenched the doorframe. I knew he'd sense me—it didn't take him long to sit up and give me his questioning look.

"I don't really want to be alone right now," I expressed with a soft voice. The man gazed indifferently for a moment, and then he cocked a small grin.

"Okay. Come on," he beckoned quietly. Swiftly I moved, being sure I was within his room before he could think about changing his mind. I kneeled on his bed, absorbing myself with Zen's eyes. "What?" he asked, trying to pull the covers back so I could slip underneath.

"Zen." I pursed my lips. "_You _saved my life. Brae's anti-serum worked, but the only reason I pulled through all of that," I paused, trying to find the right word, "that _agony_…was because you were next to me. I just need to be near you right now. To remember the reason I'm still here."

He was quiet, but his arm motioned for me to lay down, and I complied. The satin sheets were incredibly comfortable around my bandaging. Perfectly content with merely feeling Zen's presence close, I could have slipped into sleep. But then Zen's sculpted arm draped over my midriff, like it had while I was bedridden, and my eyes opened in curiosity. "I'm simply making sure this isn't a dream," he explained.

Smiling, I could finally drift into a place where dreams _did _occur.

I awoke slowly, allowing my senses to recall my surroundings. The first clue was the satin sheets gliding away from my shoulder blades as I groggily sat up. Even though I had just woken up, I could pick up Zen's aura in the kitchen. Yawning, I shuffled through the doorway to peek at whatever Zen was doing.

He of course knew I had gotten up, the banging of pantry doors getting noticeably louder as if he was trying to drown out my presence. I could tell he was _trying _to keep it under control, to conceal his edginess. I folded my arms, leaning on the wall as Zen busily threw open every door, clipped it shut, and moved on to the next. The process repeated a handful more times until Zen finally growled, hands braced against the counter as he intentionally stared down the wall across form him.

I sighed. "Okay, Zen. Fume away."

"What we're doing is wrong," he stated all-too quickly. An eyebrow of mine rose as I tried to hide a frown of confusion.

"Doing? As in we're still, right now, participating in something wrong?"

"So you're agreeing that last night was wrong?" he prodded, head angling toward me even though his eyes didn't move.

My aura darkened in disappointed realization. Last night…It hurt the slightest that Zen could think it had been _wrong_—that was the best sleep I had gotten in weeks, and now he was pouting about the fact that it happened. "You're upset…about last night?" I asked carefully.

"N-" He exhaled sharply in an attempt to gather his thoughts. "It was inappropriate."

"_Inappropriate?_" I snapped. "Zen, we didn't _do _anything."

"You slept with me!" he corrected through his teeth, wincing. "That sounds terrible."

"Nothing happened," I dictated slowly. At some point during Zen's rant I had loosened my folded arms and took a step closer to Zen.

"It's nothing to you?" Zen snapped. His eyes finally locked onto mine, freezing every trace of thought inside me.

"To me? This is about me now?"

"Well it certainly _involves _you!" Zen contended. "Ever since _you_, everything's been turned inside-out!

"Well, I'm sorry!" I barked. Zen's grip finally let go of the poor counter as he chuckled darkly in amusement.

"Sorry for _what_?" he demanded. "Do you even know what it is?"

"What _what _is?" I growled.

"You're bringing about these unavoidable," he sighed, "feelings in me."

My fingers curled into balls, eyes minimizing to slits. "This again?" I seethed. "Remember that one night, when I called you unfeeling? You were troubled by what I had said. Now you're trying to tell me that you aren't bred to have emotions? That you're really content with being an unfeeling assassin like I said?"

In a swift moment Zen closed the few paces between us, arms pounding the wall behind me as I could only reel back at the momentum. My knuckles scraped against the wood now holding me close to Zen. Subconsciously my back arched in a mix of uneasiness and eagerness at his closeness. It was a terribly riveting thought, knowing that Zen could affect me in such clashing ways. I noted of a few things: one, Zen's face was definitely inches below my own, his nose actually grazing the skin along my neck and sparking something near ecstasy; two, his aura was heated, so intense I nearly thought it would singe my nightgown; and three, that I wasn't afraid of the feeling, only upset that it was pooling off of Zen so easily and completely directed at me. It hurt—not physically, really, but mentally. Emotionally. The rogue's breath was hot against my neck, mirroring his aura. "I have feelings, Grace." It was intended to be rough, but he must have been as consumed with my aura as I was his—the sentence was a murmur, a rumble that danced across the skin of my neck.

"Zen…" I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from acting irrationally. Stupid emotions were building, and his contact wasn't helping…

My usual surroundings disappeared, replaced with blues and whites that nearly blinded me. The vision I was given was blurred and sketchy, skipping and stuttering in an odd point of view.

_Impossible! _How _did we lose her?_

Was that my voice? It was strikingly familiar, a chilling reminder…And then I remembered—when I was being turned, the Scourge attempting to take me…it was the same voice from my thoughts back then.

It was like seeing through the lens of another person. I saw a few other figures, dark and disfigured as a rage propelled my vision.

There was only one thing I was fully certain of: these weren't my thoughts. Everything else was foreign but familiar—I would have never been capable of dreaming up such a strange scene. Black figures in long black robes hovered before me, and although everything was distorted I could see they were bowed in what seemed like reverence.

It was a confusing sensation. Blues provided a backsplash for the for the dark demonic figures.

_She could have been beneficial! _roared a voice on all of my sides. I couldn't control where I turned, otherwise I would have looked for the origin of the sound.

_Yess, sire, _replied another, one hooded face rising. _But something went awry. _Two things struck me: one was that I recognized that voice so well that had I been in my own body with my own feelings, I would have gasped in pain and horror. The hooded figure was Clad. And the second thing: that he was seemingly looking at _me—_only seemingly because his eyes, through my unsteady lens, managed to convey some mix of fear and wonder. Nothing that thing held for me.

It wasn't me in this dream, vision—whatever I had been thrown into. The setting should have been a clue; the people involved as well. But it was especially alarming because I realized nothing was in my control. I was looking through another's eyes, hearing through different ears.

Even my feelings were under some sort of influence. There was a rage, anger, and a chilling thirst for blood burning what would be _my _throat. But with these feelings came a conviction of insurmountable power, of invincibility as if I could crush that stupid, cowardly, wretched little minion beneath my fingers. End his puny, meaningless substitution of a life.

_I should end your existence._

Clad nodded knowingly, and it gave me pleasure that he would croon to my every word. A dark chuckle rumbled my throat.

_However, your loyalty does not go unnoticed…_

The blue began to fade into white, black figures seemingly slipping into an unbreakable fog. My breathing was irregular. It was its sound I first sensed as the foreign scene slipped away.

"Grace!"

My eyes snapped open, Zen's familiar house now surrounding me once more.

I noticed how painful my position on the floor was—I was sitting against the wall, where I had been arguing with Zen previously. My spine felt jarred against the hard surface behind me, and my limbs felt sore; upon a look downward, I realized every muscle below me was flexed, so rigid it hurt my joints.

"Grace." Zen was hovering above me, though his hands didn't dare touch me. I could imagine how frightening I looked, body tensed and shaking under the strain. With a slow exhale I concentrated on relaxing as Zen's face hovered above mine. His left hand propped his body against the wall above my shoulder, right hand a hair away from my left leg. Coming as close to contact as possible without touching.

I groaned as my legs slid out, muscles throbbing now that they could relax. "Are you okay?" Zen asked hurriedly. His eyes searched my own as I focused on breathing. The experience—whatever caused it—had momentarily taken control of my whole being.

"Did I pass out?" I asked carefully, blinking hard. My senses had to refocus, reset…

"I thought you had…your body froze, completely collapsed in front of me…but your eyes were open, not blinking…" I winced, knowing it was probably as scary for Zen as it was me. "You looked almost dead, but…breathing…"

"Then I wasn't dreaming," I commented dryly. Zen's hand finally rested on my leg, his eyes begging for answers. It was warm to the touch, encouraging.

I trusted Zen. With my life. He was the reason I still breathed. I owed him everything and more.

I had to tell Zen everything, I knew, as I gazed into his green eyes. His white hair glittered in the sunlight shining through the window, making him look like an angel. A guardian angel, I mused.

It felt like a necessity…a want, _desire _to tell him. Part of me feared how he'd react; the fact that I saw the Scourge, conversed with them, felt so…Undead.

I saw them. There was no doubt in my mind that it hadn't been a dream, but a vision.

With a small bit of courage, I inhaled. "I saw the Scourge," I finally whispered quietly.

Zen's facial expression was stone solid, and I grew tempted to reach out and make sure he was real. My hands stayed at my sides, bandaged hands gripping the hem of my nightgown to keep them under control.

"Zen," I whispered carefully, face looking downward to hide my fear.

"The Scourge," he muttered.

"I wasn't myself. It was through someone else's eyes. I didn't…have my own emotions. I felt like one of them."

I tried to recall the details, and the pause must have been too long for Zen's taste. His hand hesitated a moment before it fell from the wall and grasped my cheek. "Tell me what happened," he articulated in a low, urgent whisper.

"Are you…worried?" I asked, an eyebrow raised.

His fingers flexed along my leg, sending a shiver down my already sore back. Those senseless feelings were returning, irrationality was clouding my thoughts. "Why would you even ask such a silly question," Zen purred in my ear. "What happened?' he asked with the same intensity.

I told him every detail I could remember. The vision had been short, but the sensations were so vivid and foreign that everything needed described.

"It felt like I became a part of…him," I muttered. "Connected. His thoughts, senses, emotions…I felt them, too."

"Connected," Zen surmised. When I stole a questioning glance, his eyes lowered to my collarbone. To my scar.

"I know," I mumbled. "It's the only explanation." The venom Clad had poisoned me with was my only connection with the Scourge. "It…it must have changed something within me after all," I forced thinly through my lips.

Zen sensed where my thoughts were going. "Stop," he stated, a finger held to my lips.

"But I'm right!" I exclaimed. "You don't want me saying it out loud because they're _your _thoughts, too!" I sputtered.

"No," Zen nearly growled.

"There's something wrong with me," I stated all-too calmly. It was too obvious, the only explanation—my vision was anything but a good sign of recovery.

"Nothing is wrong-"

"What if it's only been slowed by Brae's anti-serum? What if I'm still turning, Zen?"

"You aren't!" Zen answered.

"You don't know that," I growled. "They still have a hold on me. Connected. I'm a danger to my own Alliance."

I couldn't think about anything else, only imagine what I could be capable of if the visions persisted. If they grew more realistic, more detailed. "They were talking about me in that vision," I thought out loud. "Whoever that thing is…he was severely displeased with Clad. He said…I would have been…'beneficial.'"

"Would have been, Grace," Zen acknowledged. "They know they don't have you. The Scourge…whoever is supposed to have complete control of you…can't reach you." His hands went to my shoulders. "You're safe. I promise. Stop being completely irrational about this."

"If they can't reach me, why can I see them?" I asked.

Zen sighed. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"Me too." I sighed also, mind wandering. "I wonder what triggered it…"

"Like I said…"

"I know, I know. 'I don't know,'" I mocked in the best seductive and smooth voice possible.

"Ha, ha," Zen jested, pulling himself off the floor. Frowning, I followed. "Get dressed."

"Why?"

"We still have a duty to tell SI:7. To clear things up."

I blanched. "B-but you said I was safe!"

Zen chuckled. "I did. But they must be warned nonetheless."

"Warned…" My thoughts were processing at an incredibly fast rate, imaging what benefit SI:7 could have over my odd revelation. Zen eyed me suspiciously.

"I don't like that look. It means your mind is wandering again."

"Say I'm experiencing things that are happening the very moment I see them," I began. "If it happens often…I could potentially get a hold of sacred information for _us_. About _them_."  
Zen shook his head. "You're crazy, girl."

"This happened to me for a reason!" I called, grabbing Zen's wrist as he tried to walk away from my argument. I turned him toward me, hand grasped around his wrist to keep his attention. "You know I'm on to something," I announced.

"I'm not going to let you," Zen muttered. "It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" I squeaked. "As opposed to shipping off a handful of our friends in SI:7 to spy on the enemy?" I asked. "And next time they have our people outnumbered, we won't get away with a new mutant-rogue with an extra set of eyes. I'm _here_. The Scourge is out _there _somewhere."

"That doesn't make it safe."

"It makes for a better option, though," I countered. "I'm one rogue. My sacrifice would be less lethal—_beneficial_, even, for our side."

"Grace, it's too risky…"

"This entire war is risky," I retorted coolly. "Now, I'm getting dressed. We have a meeting with SI:7."

Zen was furious as we walked to our base. He refused to talk, even look at me. I wasn't going to worry too much about his anger—he would understand in time that the advantages outweighed the risks.

At least, I hoped. I was willing. My goal was still revenge and defense of my people.

Nothing would deter me from my goal. Not even Zen's obvious attitude.

Zen followed me into SI:7. I wasn't sure who to go to within the walls, so I took my usual route to Officer Jared's loft.

At first the officer greeted us with a knowing smile, and I immediately remembered that throughout this entire ordeal, I still wasn't officially accepted into SI:7 as of yet. Zen's presence would normally inform Jared that I was ready for the next step—which now would be initiation.

I wish it was that easy.

"What a pleasant surprise!" Jared announced. I flinched at the cheerfulness.

"It's not what you think," Zen tried to state calmly. The words came out thin.

The smile faded from Officer Jared's face, replaced with concern. He folded his arms, learning closer in. Perhaps now the stark contrast between Zen and my auras was obvious. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," I corrected. "But something…strange is happening to me."

"Her recovery has had some…complications," Zen muttered.

I explained everything once again, as I had with Zen. Once I finished, Jared leaned back into his oversized chair, eyes mulling over us even though his rogue ability could sense much easier.

"But you're eager about this…discovery of yours?" Jared asked.

That was only obvious because Zen's aura was _reeking _of defiance, I wanted to mutter. "Think of the advantages it could have," I explained. "If it develops further…if I can improve it. Zen and I both agree that the Scourge are unable to sense me, so…"

"You could become the most lethal spy SI:7 has ever acquired," Jared muttered. Zen shifted in his position, a gulp suppressing a growl in his throat. "You have…objections, Zen?" Jared asked casually, with a sense of amusement.

"We haven't considered the dangers in this idea," Zen replied. I was surprised at how controlled the statement was, despite the aura that nearly sizzled around him.

"Grace has considered them, it seems," Jared observed. "Zen, she has accepted the burden and is willing to take the risks."

"But…"

"Zen, I don't know what's gotten into you. You've always put SI:7's welfare first. Before your own life, even. What has-"  
"Grace is still my student," Zen cut off his fellow comrade. Momentarily I had forgotten that the two were ranked evenly. "Her life is still my responsibility."

"Responsibility?" I growled, feeling heat rise to my cheeks quicker than I was able to control. "If it's going to be too much of a hassle to keep an eye on me now, Zen, please feel free to permit me into commencement. I wouldn't want to become a _burden_, after all."

Zen's eyes snapped to mine, furious because I had called his bluff. He had no other excuses for Jared, except that perhaps he truly cared for my well-being—and Zen wasn't about to acknowledge such a concept to Jared.

"Besides," I prompted, folding my hands behind my back and keeping my eyes on Jared. "You said I was ready. My skills have far surpassed the requirement."

"Well now I say you're not ready!" Zen growled.

"Based off of what evidence?" I retorted just as enthusiastically.

My mentor shook his head in disbelief, the silence a hard contrast against the strength of Zen's aura. "Zen, why isn't Grace ready?" Jared also asked.

"Because, I-" I bit my lip, unable to anticipate what sort of reasoning Zen was formulating in his brain. "Because I say so!" Zen finally answered.

I huffed in response.

"Zen, there is no reason Grace should not be initiated. Everything Grace has accomplished and survived only proves she is fully capable. Zen, if there are external reasons for why you wish to prohibit Grace's success, you shouldn't let her suffer for them."

External reasons? My eyes lifted to read Jared's expression. It seemed serious enough, but a slight smile was lifting the right corner of his lips. In the spur of the moment, I could pinpoint only warmth in his aura.

"I'm not quite sure I understand," Zen muttered.

"Let's say...hypothetically…that a student and teacher were to become…extra close in their endeavors together," Jared began.

I must have stopped breathing—it was the only explanation as to why I suddenly felt like I was drowning.

"Jared, _please_…"

"Of course, SI:7 has no rules against relationships between officers and non-ranked rogues, since only Rillhelm has the power to promote officers, there's no conflict of interest. But mentors control every aspect of their student's development. Therefore, hypothetically, SI:7 could have an issue with such a situation. Hypothetically," Jared added with a grin.

I blinked, inhaled, exhaled. That wasn't quite the approach I would have made to the argument, but the more astonishing fact was that Jared had tuned completely into the relationship Zen and I shared.

If it was even considered a relationship.

Whatever it was hypothetically, it had Zen cornered. Not only was my initiation going to aid in my usefulness, but it could also erase Zen's guilty conscience should anything happen…

Not that there would be anything…

But the scare worked. Zen sighed. "Fine." He stepped closer to me, his right hand landing on my left shoulder. "Officer Jared, may I present you Grace Fulstorm," he muttered quickly. "As her mentor I attest to her talent and judgment, and I request that SI:7 consider Grace for official recognition as a soldier of the Alliance."

"Your request is accepted. Grace, do you attest to your mentor's assertion?"

"Yes."

"Your acceptance into SI:7 will be brought to Major General Rillhelm tomorrow at noon."

I nodded.

Zen and I were nearly home when I decided to open my mouth. "What happens at the initiation?"

"You stand before Rillhelm, and he either accepts or declines the request of commencement."

"That's it?"

"Mhm."

I paused, watching as Zen opened the door to his home. "Has anyone ever been denied?"

"A few throughout the course of history. Usually it only occurs if the inductee is a suspected spy."

I stopped near the staircase, thinking of my awkward predicament. "Jared's probably going to explain to Rillhelm my acquired gift…do you think that's grounds for denial?"

"No. Stop panicking."

"And you're going to treat me like this until noon tomorrow?" I observed, arm catching the banister of the stairs.

"Hmm?" Zen walked into his room, removing his shirt as if a girl wasn't behind him watching.

"Forget it," I seethed, not bothering to look behind me as I thumped as ungracefully and loudly up the stairs as possible.

Never mind that come tomorrow, I wouldn't be under Zen's wing anymore. That he wouldn't have his responsibility anymore. That I'd have no excuse to stay near him anymore.

Yes. Never mind all of that.

I wasn't quite sure how to dress that morning. If it would be too strange to arrive at a rogue initiation ceremony in a dress. I figured, why not? One of the last times I would be given a reason to wear one.

The dress was purple. I thought it fit nicely with my new eye color and violet scar decorating my collarbone. I even made sure my hair looked tidy enough for presentation.

And I hadn't dared descend down the stairs until I absolutely had to. Zen was awake, and I really didn't want to be submerged completely in the animosity his aura quelled.

Of course, all hopes had to come to an end at some point.

"Grace."

I glided down the stairs, shaking my bangs that were usually pulled back out of my eyesight. When my feet clopped onto the first floor, I finally looked at Zen.

He was dressed on the more formal side as well. Zen was doused in complete black, from shirt to boot. His long, black overcoat nicely fit over his lean muscles, the collar framing his long neck in an attempt at subtle mysteriousness.

"What a shame. I don't think there will be any women at the ceremony who can appreciate your effort," I commented lightly. Zen smirked.

"I'm not trying to impress any women. My only concern today is you."

I wasn't sure how to take the comment, whether to blush or glare, so I merely disregarded it. Once the silence had consumed us once again, Zen sighed.

"You don't have to rush into this simply because you've gained this new ability," Zen encouraged.

"You don't have rush into this either," I grumbled. "So why did you?"

"Because you're ready," he answered.

I shook my head. "Then explain to me why you're so angry."

"I am _not _angry," Zen snipped. I gave him my most dead-panned expression I could possibly muster.

"Zen. You should know by now I'm the last person you can fool with that."

He sighed, defeated. "I suppose I panicked. Jared's right. If something were to happen…"

"Hypothetically…"

"…hypothetically…we could both be in serious trouble. You're ready, and I didn't want to take that chance anyway."

"Zen…did you let your feelings…cloud your sense of judgment?" I asked with a smirk.

"I meant the chance that people would take our…closeness…for intimacy. Better to be safe…"

"Oh, so now you're just taking precautions?" I whispered, purposely taking a step closer so that my lips were near his neck. "So it doesn't enthuse you to think that in a few hours, this will be perfectly allowable?"

Zen groaned in frustration, his arms pushing me a step back gently. "Allowable isn't the same as doable. It's not _right_…two rogues trying to work out a…relationship…it's simply unsuitable for our nature."

"Would you rather have a relationship with a civilian girl?" I countered. "A farmer's daughter, perhaps? Someone you'd have to leave behind, unable to promise your safe return to. A girl with a simple life who couldn't possibly fathom what you face every day?"

"It doesn't matter _who_," Zen countered. "In the end, I'm still a rogue. I still have duties that clash too much with the emotions I've acquired…"

I growled, now completely determined to sift out Zen's strange behavior for my sake as well as his. With one hand I dragged the other rogue to the doorway where we had our argument similar to this one. "Remember this place?" I goaded, pushing Zen into his position facing the wall. I slammed my own body against the surface, glaring. "You were _furious_. But you wouldn't back down. _I have feelings_, you said. You said it."

Zen's eyelids hid his beautiful green eyes for a moment as he gathered himself.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of that fact," I continued, knowing Zen was well beyond words. "I nearly _lost_ myself to those monsters. Nearly lost my thoughts, feelings, memories. I _refuse _to take for granted what I've almost lost. You shouldn't either." My hand went to his chest, his heartbeat eerily calm beneath my touch. "You're human. _This_," I tapped his heart, "still belongs to you. That's something the Scourge can't fathom. Something you shouldn't consider a burden but a gift." I dropped my hand, sighing in realization. "Like my new ability. A gift…"

"Grace."

"_That's_ what I wanted to say. Before that stupid vision completely wrecked it."

"Grace."

His face was again close to mine, much like our previous predicament. I sucked in a breath, hoping my nervousness wasn't too obvious in my aura. "It's going to be hard, you know," he muttered.

I nodded, beyond words.

"Especially if you're late to your own initiation," Zen added, and I could feel his smile as his lips grazed my neck.

"I suppose that would complicate things," I commented as Zen pulled away, smirk still on his lips.

[end]

Thanks so much, everyone! And don't forget to review, they make my day =]


	9. Rogue

I have RETURNED valiantly for my readers!  
I've been on a roll lately with where I am in writing this, so I'll be updating more frequently! Yay!  
This chapter is kind of long. My apologies!  
Thanks so much for those of you who continued to support me and the story, even when I wasn't updating! It means so much!

Without further ado!

**Rogue**

**Book Five, Part One**

We carried on to SI:7, both of us smiling as we walked together. Perhaps it was possible, after all, to balance a rogue's life with aspects of human normalcy.

The ceremony was in the long room I had previously been in, with the long rectangular table where the meetings were held. When I arrived, I was a tad surprised at the amount of people gracing the walls. Many I recognized, including Aradar, Cole, Brae, Robert…

"Is attendance mandatory?" I asked Zen.

"Nope. You're just that special."

I grunted my approval of _that_ statement.

Zen and I sat on the complete opposite of Major General Rillhelm's seat. All the way on the end. It kind of made me feel like I was on trial again. Important officers, including Aradar, sat in between.

The Major General arrived, quietly sitting in his rightful chair. He smiled, and I knew immediately that everything would turn out okay.

Rillhelm greeted everyone, and then asked Zen a number of questions I wasn't paying attention to.

I had the strong urge to smile. To take everything in. This was my family now. SI:7 was where I belonged. Aradar, Brae, Cole…and Zen beside me.

"Grace." Now my attention was on my Major General. "You accept the invitation SI:7 has offered, and are willing to become a full-fledged rogue in the eyes of every officer present?

"Yes."

"You are willing to adopt the lifestyle being a member of SI:7 entails?"

"Yes."

"Then with the witnesses of every officer here, I accept your entry into SI:7. Welcome to the family."

I smiled. Family.

Zen's arm wrapped across my shoulders as he shook me gently in congratulations. Cheers erupted from around me, only causing my grin to widen. I had finally made it.

But of course, it had only just begun.

The other rogues eventually cleared out of the room, leaving Zen and I to return to his house. "So, are you kicking me to the curb?" I asked lightly.

Zen gave me a look of confusion. "Kicking you?"

"You're probably going to make room for your new trainee, right?" I asked. "I'm sure SI:7 is still trying to push through as many recruits as possible."

"Trying, yes." Zen's hands were tucked into his overcoat's pockets, giving him a laid-back look. "But they haven't found many more potential recruits. It's hard to acquire talented ones. Besides, I've requested a reassignment."

"You're…leaving?" I choked, stopping in mid-thought and mid-step. The other rogue had to turn around to keep me in his sight.

"You are too," Zen mentioned as if I was supposed to know. "Once a rogue gets initiated, he or she relocates to any one of our many bases. Wherever SI:7 sees fit to place you."

Separated. "How long do I have until I'm reassigned?" I asked carefully. I still hadn't made an attempt at moving out of the bustling street. Grumpy villagers shoved past me and Zen with critical looks.

"Depends. A week. Maybe longer."

"But I can…stay with you…until then?" I asked.

"Of course." I nodded in relief as we arrived at Zen's house. With a nod of enthusiasm, I began my escapade up the stairs. "What are you doing?" Zen asked out of curiosity.

"I'm going to get started on this spy business," I answered.

"Grace…" Zen warned. I stopped halfway up the stairs, the wood creaking with the stress of weight.

"Nothing is going to happen," I assured. "The worst that could happen would be me rolling over and hitting the floor."

"I don't want you experimenting with this gift of yours so openly," Zen stated, taking a step closer to the stairs.

"If I don't experiment, how is it supposed to improve?"

Zen glared, but it broke once he finally sighed. "At least let me…monitor you. Grant me some sort of ease."

When I paused, Zen took it as an affirmation, and he bade me down the stairs. With a sigh I followed the order, growling as Zen motioned towards his bed.

"We do this on _my_ terms," Zen declared. Huffing all the way, I finally plopped onto the black satin blankets. Once the male rogue sat on the side of the bed, I laid down in an attempt to get comfortable.

"Just do me a favor," I mentioned as my dress shifted below me.

"Hm."

"Don't touch me if I slip away. I'm not sure what affect it'll have on the whole thing."

"And if you _do _roll off the bed and hit the floor?" Zen asked with a curious gaze.

"Then you have my permission to say, 'I told you so' when I return," I answered without a moment of hesitation.

It grew silent. I closed my eyes, attempting to concentrate. On what I was supposed to concentrate on, though, was a mystery. I had no idea what I was supposed to look for or reach out to. Should I imagine myself there again? Try to build up enough rage?

But rage hadn't triggered the episode last time.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do," I finally admitted, keeping my eyes closed so I could avoid getting distracted by Zen's bright eyes.

"Hmm." I wouldn't open my eyes. "Can you think back to what was happening before your first experience with it?"

I sighed. "We were arguing."

"Perhaps your anger…"

"I wasn't angry," I interjected. I opened my eyes, knowing fully that I would be seeing Zen's curious smirk.

"Well, something must have acted as a bridge between you and them," Zen pushed.

"Maybe it was random," I surmised. "Maybe I just have to wait."

"I'm perfectly fine with waiting," Zen announced, hands moving behind his head as he leaned back. Glaring, I nestled into the comfortable sheets below me.

I'd show him.

With a new eagerness I shut my eyes again, concentrating. This time, I tried to replay what had happened prior to my first episode. When Zen's contact had throttled my senses into overdrive…

I lay there forever, waiting for my consciousness to slip away.

It didn't happen. I growled, finally sitting up and opening my eyes.

"I assume that didn't exactly work," Zen stated, still sitting calmly on the bed's corner. His arms were now folded in arrogance, a slight smirk perking the corner of his thin lips.

"I have an idea," I declared loudly, tossing my small body off his large bed. "How about you continue to remain completely unsupportive and overprotective, while I go visit Jared so I can let off some steam!" I explained hotly.

"Overprotective?" barked Zen, who was now following my form as I stormed angrily up the stairs. "Unsupportive?" I rolled my eyes as my hands found my gear—minus a chest piece and daggers. I would have to buy a new set, after all. Quickly I snatched up my small money pouch. "And what the _hell _do you think you're doing?" Zen demanded.

"I'm going to help out the guys who haven't been initiated yet," I answered. "If I don't see some blood in the next few moments, I'll go crazy."

"You're being reckless again."

"Your _point_?" I articulated as I slipped my bag of coins into my inside pocket. "If I recall correctly, you're no longer my teacher."

"No, but I still outrank you," Zen growled as I walked toward the table my swords sat on. I wasn't too fond of swords—perhaps I could swap them for a pair of daggers.

"So does Jared," I countered. "And Jared has better jurisdiction over this decision anyway."

"That's _Officer _Jared," Zen corrected with a hiss.

My temper flared, aura giving off a heat that directly contended with Zen's own. "_Officer Jared_," I spat. "My apologies, _Officer Zen_."

The other rogue's eyes drew into furious slits, his hands bracing the stairway's banister and the wall, consequently blocking my exit.

A feral growl rumbled through my throat. "Move."

"No."

I took another step toward Zen, my face nearly touching his shoulder. When Zen didn't move, my own hands attempted to push his shoulder blades against the adjacent wall, to no avail. He merely swayed with the effect. I cursed my girlish figure.

"Keep it up," Zen growled. "I'm starting to believe your initiation was a _mistake_."

Disbelief was muffled by pure rage. "_Why_, _you-_-"

I felt my eyes roll back, a new weightlessness completely infiltrating my body.

Blue again. A familiar dark and empty chuckle replaced my growl. My sight was no longer my own—everything was so cool, so slick…

White was showering my blue surroundings. At first I thought perhaps the vision was still settling, or fading even—but then the remaining surroundings come into realization.

Ice. Snow.

Completely out of place, considering in my realm it was almost September.

My host was overseeing something from his perch. Dark figures began to become more focused as time progressed. Six Undead had a hold of a pair of prisoners, sharp claws locking them in place.

It reminded me of my own encounter with the iron grips, the reasons behind why I was held…

The prey were human men. They resisted in the grips of the monsters, heavy armor clanking around built bodies. The horror I knew I should have felt never settled into my bones. Instead, it was a pleasure. I smiled, watching as the two helpless humans prepared for nothing but the inevitable. I was certain of their demise, their destiny within the talons of such things.

I willed a hand to reach out to the pair, but no movement was noted.

_Their proficiency will be beneficial, _came the familiar voice of Clad from my right.

_It would not harm my crusade, _I recognized to be 'my' voice.

_I still believe they would be perfect subjects for my synthetic serum…_

_I want them under my complete control, _my host replied. _After your vile mistake last time with that girl…you're lucky you still exist._

There was a pause. The wind caused the white snow to angle more violently, shudders erupting from the two living beings. I inhaled sharply, enjoying the fresh smell of human and imagining how enticing the scent would be once the blood was shed.

_They're cold_. A flash of excitement caused a sinister smirk to peel at my seemingly immobile lips. _Clad, let's put them out of their misery._

_Yes, my King._

With a slither of command and an answering howl from the six minions, the act of mercy began. Each human cried in anguish as every Undead being sunk their poisonous teeth into any visible skin.

I tried to pull myself back, reel my consciousness away from this place, but my host's utter pleasure kept me anchored. I was forced to look upon the victims as they first collapsed, then writhed in pain as that all-too-familiar burn itched at their every wound, spreading then throughout their bodies.

My fingers—or his fingers, really, because these were bony and white—clenched, joints creaking with power and effort. I felt his restraint weaken. He wanted to jump in, get a taste of that wretched human blood for himself…

Finally his gaze moved away from the scene, landing on a slat of ice at his feet. Things finally began to fade away, those poor souls getting lost and instead being replaced with monstrosities, puppets on strings.

I slipped into reality with a pitiful whine. The revulsion I wanted so badly to feel earlier now took over, causing my breath to shorten and tears to prick beneath my eyes.

My eyes slipped open even though I could already sense Zen's presence. "Grace?"

"H-how long was I gone?" I asked, hands clenching whatever was beneath my laying figure. I didn't quite have the strength to sit up quite yet. I frowned. "And how did I get into my bed?"

"To answer your first question: not very long. Minutes, perhaps. And the second: it was either catch you or let you slip down every single step and let you suffer a concussion. I chose the more promising option."

I grimaced. Concussions to the head probably wouldn't have been healthy in my state. Would I get stuck on the side of the Scourge?

"What'd you see?" he asked carefully.

"They're building an army," I explained. "Taking ranked humans and intentionally turning them."

"We kind of presumed…"

"I see through their king's eyes," I mentioned.

Zen's hands clenched the blanket beneath me. "King?" he repeated.

"Clad called him his King," I explained. "They were somewhere cold, with ice and snow…"

"What was his name?" Zen asked with eager dictation. "The king."

"I…" I searched through my cold memories but came up short. "I don't…"

"Arthas."

I paused. It clicked into place. "He was the voice in my head when I was turning…I remember now. It makes sense."

"You can see Arthas' actions?" asked Zen.

"Seems like it," I breathed. I noticed I was still shaking, and I had to relax the muscles in my hands to minimize the quivering.

Zen's hand covered my own. "That bad?" he asked. Nodding, I closed my eyes in an attempt to erase the images in my head. It didn't help.

"I'm still mad at you," I mumbled.

"I know." Zen tried to hold back a chuckle. "You nearly punched me before your blackout."

"Good."

Part of me wished to drift into sleep, but I was nervous about any nightmares that may creep into a perfectly good nap. "Arthas is dangerous, Grace," Zen commented as nonchalantly as possible. "He's leading these attacks. His power is overwhelming, and if you keep creeping into his head…"

"I've already decided, Zen," I muttered. "I'm not going to stop moving forward just because I know who it is I'm connected too. Nice try though."

"Stupid, arrogant, self-centered rogue," grumbled Zen.

"Speak for yourself."

So this time, my anger had triggered the episode. There was little doubt now as to how it happened. But whether or not it could be developed on was still a mystery. Of course, then there was the option of intentionally angering myself…

But that didn't seem very healthy.

The next day, Zen begrudgingly outfitted me with a new set of almost-matching armor. Once we reached his house again, he led me into his room where he handed me a small box. "This was supposed to be your initiation gift," Zen explained. "I suppose now you'll need them anyway." I opened the box carefully, mouth dropping in awe as my gaze met a pair of beautiful daggers. Purple gems glittered around the hilt, complimenting the silver surrounding the sharp blade.

"They're amazing, Zen," I whispered in astonishment. With one arm I gave him the biggest hug I could manage. "Thank you."

Later that day I still visited Jared and told him I would offer any help needed. He seemed thrilled at the idea (even though Zen, obviously, was not). The next few days were spent spilling blood of the Undead, aiding others in their red missions with my new lethal daggers. More than once Zen offered to come as well, and I knew it was only to monitor my anger levels. I could only imagine having an episode erupt while I was surrounded by Undead and attempting a getaway. Something about slipping into unconsciousness while they circled me just didn't seem appealing.

It was the fourth day it began that would change everything. Jared had a special request for me, beneficial to send me because I had a talent for sensing the Scourge.

My talent had grown slightly more developed by then. With a bit of work I was able to reach out to Arthas, see what he was doing. Usually it was nothing of use, but the power was definitely an advantage. This, plus my uncanny knack for stealth and sharp senses for Undead, made me a prime candidate.

A few members of the Alliance had been running typical paladin missions in the Eastern Plaguelands. Purging the land, ridding of the unwanted. Apparently, their numbers had been diminishing as of late due to large numbers of Undead, and the few that were remaining needed help escaping the clutches of the Scourge.

I was perfect. It was dangerous—one of the most intense missions I'd been assigned to—but anyone else wouldn't have been compatible assistance.

Zen had been called into an important SI:7 meeting with other officers. The Scourge was moving, they knew, and plans to spread the ranks were growing more important. I figured Zen's transfer to a new base was on the list of things to discuss.

I traveled alone. It was easy at dusk as I stepped lightly across fallen leaves off the paths. The route was familiar now, and the base my fellow soldiers were at was easy to spot.

Although it wouldn't be easy to move the survivors. Undead monsters completely plagued the surrounding areas. How hadn't they been spotted yet?

I slipped around the perimeter, trying to find any openings in the many Undead. Easily averted for me—not as much for those inside.

As I took another step toward the dilapidated building I realized why my fellow comrades were safe—someone had placed a barrier around the inside of their sanctuary, so that nothing could be sensed in and out.

Anything Undead would have sizzled at the touch of the wall. Just my luck that I wasn't one of them.

My small frame dodged countless zombies in the dark night, not bothering to cause a scene with a brutal backstab or well-placed distract. That could wait for the escape. Soon I was slipping through the barrier, into the inside of the broken doorframe.

It felt warm and familiar inside. My memory did a quick scan until I remembered the aura's origin.

"Dennis..."

I turned the corner carefully, attempting not to startle anyone that had survived. There he was, sitting patiently with two other men. Dennis was haggard, looking like he had gone through a battle from hell. Dirt patched his face, hands, and armor. His lip was cut open, a trail of dark red discernable from the bruising around his jaw. Even with such a beaten appearance, his eyes remained alert. When he spotted me, confusion coursed through his aura. "Grace?" he whispered.

The other two men in similar shape looked up from their own sitting positions, suddenly alert as well. I tried to maintain a smile as I approached. "You guys call for backup?" I asked.

Dennis' eyes minimized in confusion. "You?" he asked. "I wasn't…when did…?"

"I got initiated a few days ago. Now, does anyone have any bites?" I asked, trying to properly assess our situation.

"No. We're just weak," Dennis answered. "My barrier has sapped my strength. Henri's use of the Light is about vanquished as well. And Edgar," he chuckled, "Edgar's a warrior. Lousy, no good…"

"Hey," the man who I presumed to be Edgar grumbled. "I haven't been slandering paladins, have I? Have I jested _once _about your use of 'protection,' or your so-called divine shield, or-"

"I'm going to cut you off right there," Dennis stated, smiling.

"Well, it's good to see you three have kept your sense of humor," I surmised, looking around the building. "This place is completely surrounded. I'm not sure how many I'll be able to take out so that we can all escape." My only comfort was the nighttime, but that wasn't going to cover the obvious human smell that would emanate from the house as soon as we exited the wall. "Everyone's able to move?" I asked.

"If needed," answered Dennis. I nodded.

"I'm going to have to clear as many as I can. I'll be back."

"Grace…"

"I'll be safe. I got in here, didn't I?" With a few more steps I was again outside the barrier, Undead beings still in plain sight.

One, two, three, four, five…

Useless to count. Sighing, I decided there really was no other way to clear a path besides utter violence. _Damn. A reason to utterly destroy Undead._

Paladins were fierce contenders against anything unholy like the Undead. So I had found it terribly ironic that one little rogue had been sent to bail out three men—two of them being paladins.

It was a bit ridiculous, how they all simply swarmed around the house. As if they knew something was amiss around their territory. Of course, these things were everywhere in the Plaguelands, now. Growing in number and strength.

The darkness was on my side. I concentrated on the things that remained between the front door and a path over the hill. Over the hill was a river, and after that a break in the filthy stench around me.

My body floated through the grass as I approached the closest Undead monster. His back was exposed, the spine protruding from ashy skin like bony fins. The shoulder blades were partially exposed, their shapes gliding under un-living muscle as the monster shuffled about. It caught my presence as I closed the space in between us—it grew completely still, head snapping slightly to the left as if it caught my scent in the nighttime breeze.

It was too late for the creature to respond, though. His back had been vulnerable for far too long. With a deft strike of silence and grace my dagger was embedded in its thick but dead skin, causing a pipe of surprise to ring from my victim's throat. It couldn't develop into a scream—without any form of thought I pulled my dagger downwards forcefully, tearing parallel to its backbone. The scream of pain was smothered with the ripping of flesh.

The body remained alive, despite my messy damage to its torso. I had to turn the Undead thing around, get a good look into its lifeless eyes, in order to properly dispose of it. One more blow later my blade was through its heart, all noise and movement halted.

Considering the body of the Undead was mostly bone, it was fairly easy to drag the corpse further into the nighttime shadows, near the house's walls. I had to act quickly after the first kill; once the rest of them caught the scent of their own kind's blood, it wouldn't be easy at all.

Hopefully the walls of the building would restrain the spread of the stench. I tossed it aside, already calibrating my next move. None of them had noticed the slight subtraction at their numbers. One of the creatures was only a few steps away, sniffing the air awkwardly and shifting his weight back and forth on his hinds. Sharp claws emanated a glossy reflection off the sliver of a moon as his hands flexed. I smirked, crimson blades much more terrifying in the midst of darkness. My right dagger was momentarily sheathed as I recovered one of my throwing weapons. When I loosed it toward the slightly isolated monster, it screeched in the wind and landed with a palpable _thud_ into his thin upper arm.

Blood red eyes immediately snapped to my direction, and once he registered what I was a dark growl rose from his chest. His shoulders faced me, body morphing into a stooping prowl as he prepared for an attack.

He didn't bother alerting his other buddies. Perhaps the Undead were too animalistic or instinctual for the concept of cooperating without the command of their leader. The being charged with the familiar gate, arms wild and itching for bloodshed. I had enough time to unsheathe my main dagger, my slice fanning out so it carved a horizontal gash into its abdomen. In the darkness, the blood spilling from the cut appeared brown. Before the momentum in my right hand was even finished, my left dagger was moving, plunging into the chest of my victim. In moments the second creature was dead, his body joining my first kill.

I got the next Undead's attention with the same throwing weapon. This one had a good swing intended for my neck, and I had to dodge the attack before I could even think offensively.

The movement caught the attention of one of the other zombies. I was further from the building now, where the Undead were growing closer together in numbers. It wasn't much of a distraction to see the other one coming from the right, but I was definitely aware of the presence as I stabbed my current target in its heart. As it collapsed, the other monster arrived, and I was forced to duck away from a strong swipe. A rumble of a growl escaped through his lips as he unexpectedly dodged my jab at his chest. Apparently he had learned from his comrade's death.

No matter. Using both of my weapons I decorated his chest with matching horizontal gashes, toying with my prey a little bit. I watched him stumble forward with the sudden injury, blood painting first my hands and then the ground below. Two more cuts arrived along his thighs, and then another pair along his forearms. The Undead released an inhuman groan as his arms dangled uselessly at his sides. They were barely intact, attached by damaged ligaments and tendons. Finally I finished him off with my usual stab, daggers moving through darkness with the smallest of noise.

I killed three more in the same fashion, taking each body back to the building. My stealth was keeping me alive—if I had been any other class out here the entire army would have sensed me, mauled me past recognition.

I could hardly control my breathing by the time I had returned to Dennis and the other two. My adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, telling my body it wasn't ready to finish yet. Any attempts I made at bettering my appearance failed. I tried to wipe the excess blood off my hands and arms but it only resulted in a very bloody pair of pants.

With ease I slipped back into our small sanctuary, minding that the sunrise was far too close to rest now.

My bloodied state didn't go unnoticed, but I was too focused to explain to Dennis. "We need to move. I've cleared as many as possible, but it's not likely to do much good if we don't act."

Three men followed me through the barrier, the recognizable warmth covering my skin as we crossed. At first I held my arms out, commanding the others to remain still near the building. They froze in compliance.

"They're going to be able to sense you," I whispered. "But paladins have a knack for-"

"Sensing them as well, yes," mumbled the other paladin, Henri.

"Good. You two are going to have to be Edgar's senses through this. I'm going to move a couple steps forward and be sure everything's cleared. It's a straight shot…"

I prowled forward, ignoring the blood spatters still evident on the dirt below me. The other three weren't as accustomed to moving quick in the dark; I felt them scoot forward uncertainly.

Having Dennis' aura so close behind me was both a blessing and a disadvantage. It was comforting, and I was glad to have him near me; but the fact that I was now protecting someone dear to me was dangerous. It had the potential to distract me and cloud my sense of judgment. I wanted badly to look back behind me, be sure Dennis was still whole.

Who was I kidding. Dennis was the most skilled soldier here. Even in is weakened state with the Light I was positive he could still pack a good wave of attacks. The Light wasn't his only skill, unlike most paladins that would rely too much on their gift.

Silently I rid of another Undead being with two movements of my daggers. It slumped to the ground as a crimson puddle decorated the dirt below it. There was a very discernable pathway now for us to follow, it was only a matter of being undetected now…

A shift behind me caught my full attention as my hair whipped around with force. Edgar, flanked by Dennis and Henri, was in a defensive stance as he took two large steps off the path. With more noise than necessary his weapon was pulled out, glittering in the moonlight.

"What the _hell_?" hissed Henri, who was taking a step closer to the only warrior present. I attempted to seek whatever had him startled, but found no Undead monsters of the Scourge. "It's a freakin' _squirrel_, dumbass!"

I had no time to sigh in relief. My senses were already picking up waves of darkness as they floated toward my group. At least five of the monsters had detected the sudden shift in movement, and were now scampering towards the trio as I broke into a full run towards the others.

Dennis and Henri sensed the danger moments later, when I had already removed my daggers from their sheathes. I slipped between Edgar and Henri, my weapons arriving barely in time to block a good slice towards Edgar's back. The would-be victim whirled around, completely shocked as six other Scourge arrived behind the first.

The initial monster was rid of.

Soon all of us were fighting for our lives. This wasn't my first close encounter with numerous Undead adversaries, but I also had three weakened soldiers behind me to worry about. I had three of the monsters lifeless on the ground before I could look behind me.

The others were finishing off the final attacker, and I watched as Edgar's blade ran straight through its body, piercing through the gray back with a jarring rip. As the sword was pulled out forcefully, blood surged from the fatal wound and the creature collapsed.

Our breathing broke the silence of the night. It felt safe for now, so I managed to sheath my daggers and approach the three men. "Is everyone okay?" I asked carefully. The question was met with silence, causing me to look over every human.

Dennis approached Henri, whose bloodied hand was covering his upper arm. "Are you okay, Henri?"

"No." I felt my own shoulders broaden, spine frigid. "I got bitten," he whispered.

Dennis stiffened, and Edgar had to suck in a breath that sounded painful. I felt my face contort in worry. "Let me see it," I demanded gently, reaching out my hand. Henri hesitated, glancing at Dennis. "Trust me, I have a fairly good knowledge of bites." Finally the paladin followed the request, his hand dropping lifelessly to his side as he concentrated his gaze on the ground.

Flesh was missing from his arm. Through the seeping blood I could see the unmistakable chalk white of bone. "It burns, doesn't it?" I asked, hands gently wrapped around the man's firm bicep.

"Y..yeah." He tried to flex, but couldn't find the strength. "A lot."

"D-dennis," I muttered. "Can't paladins…can't they…?"

"I can't reverse what's been done," Dennis answered, even though I had already known what kind of response I'd receive. "The Light can only…"

"Extinguish darkness," Henri finished.

I hadn't brought the potion that would otherwise save Henri's life. It was too fragile of a liquid, and if it were to get into the hands of any of the Scourge, then SI:7's secretive infiltration of the Scourge would be ruined. But if I had known I'd be able to save a life…

"Dennis," Henri began breathlessly. "You can't let me turn. It's inevitable, so please…"

My eyes widened in realization. "No!" I hissed. "No. We need to move _now_."

I began to stalk through our cleared path, knowing the others would have no choice but to follow. As we crossed the river and climbed the cliff, I couldn't help but let the guilt wash over me.

Henri was under my protection, and now he was bound to death. His fate was set in complete stone, and yet he was still willing to choose his own path, to end his life before the Scourge could turn him against his own. It was utterly amazing to me, how the entire war had turned a class of chivalrous paladins into remarkable humans with incredible principals.

When we arrived on the other side, I sensed that our surroundings were comparatively clean of Undead presence. We could stop and rest, let my heart rate slow back down to normal. "How's he looking?" I asked. Nobody answered; instead, Henri showed the wound with a painful grimace. The gray was beginning to spread down his arm, and the wound was blackening. I shook my head, unable to do anything but observe.

"Dennis." Henri was borderline panic now as he approached the fellow paladin. "The pain's only going to get worse. Please, I'm begging you…spare me."

I wanted to look away so bad, like I had during the episode in Arthas' head. But something had me rooted in place—terror, wonder, anticipation….

The man I had grown up with hesitated, lips pursing in his dilemma. "Henri, you know I couldn't…"

"Dennis, please. For the sake of the Alliance and for the sake of my dignity."

When Dennis didn't answer, Henri first kneeled and then laid atop a patch of grass. The sight had me nauseous and absorbed. His arm was still giving him a great discomfort, I noted; his fingers tried to claw at the ground below, and his abdomen expanded and contracted with violent heaves. But it was his face that struck me; how calm and collected Henri remained, even when facing certain death. Angelic, almost, the way the pale moonlight softened the skin of his face. Even with the dirt and blood blotching parts of his otherwise handsome face, there was a god-like quality, a hint of flawlessness with him.

Dennis kneeled beside his fellow paladin, his back to me. I didn't wish to get any closer, and even if I had wanted to, I was too frozen with disbelief to step forward. The wounded paladin looked up towards the other, giving Dennis a gentle pat on the leg. "I have no regrets. This journey has helped me accept that at times death isn't a burden but an honor. I'm glad our paths crossed." He winced with pain. "Even if only for such a short time."

My face grew hot as I attempted to stifle my tears. Even with the effort my vision grew blurry.

Dennis' hand gripped Henri's healthy arm softly but firmly. "You're sure of this?" he asked carefully, trying to hide the shake in his voice.

Henri nodded, and then closed his eyes in expectation. "This is for the better."

I heard Dennis inhale, and it caused me to hold my own breath as the paladin's right hand went to the decaying wound. His left hand's palm touched Henri's forehead, and I couldn't help but notice my own hands and how tense they were as they remained balled up at my sides. Softly Dennis uttered some sort of chant, but it was a foreign tongue I didn't recognize. Once he stopped speaking, Dennis' hands began to glow with Light, and an uncomfortable sizzling sound erupted from Henri's wound. The suffering man growled with pain, his body contorting slightly under Dennis' power until finally the light vanished and Henri stopped breathing.

Dennis' head bowed over the still body, his right thumb tracing a line and then a circle on Henri's forehead. "Rest in peace, brother."

I didn't dare say anything.

"We should rest elsewhere," Edgar whispered. "His scent will attract others…"

I nodded icily, my head feeling dislodged from the rest from my body. "It's probably for the better. Dennis…?"

The remaining paladin stood up, shoulders carrying his guilt and sadness. "Let's move," he agreed. We walked onward in the dark in complete silence. My senses were on overdrive, completely tuned to anything that could prove harmful to our small group. It made it impossible to dwell on what I had witnessed.

Once we reached the thicket of some forest we stopped. The three of us weren't concerned with follies such as wild animals. Bears that could severe our limbs off or wolves that wouldn't hesitate to rip our throats out. There were far worse animals to fathom now, and a few forest dwellers weren't going to startle us.

I sat down quietly, watching as Edgar and Dennis followed. "I suppose we continue at dawn," I began, my arms cradling my withdrawn legs. "They'll be less numerous. And it'll give us time to…to relax…"

Edgar fell asleep—probably the first time he was able to in days or weeks. His steady breathing and calmed aura helped me relax the slightest, although Dennis' own presence was far too frigid.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered after too much silence passed. "Something went wrong. I should have been protecting him-"

"Stop it, Grace," Dennis interrupted, his smooth voice halting me mid-thought. "Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have done anything else." My face twisted into a frown, an effort to stop threatening tears of guilt. Dennis' hand went to rest on my knee. "Grace." I exhaled, trying to maintain control over my body. "You did well. I'm terribly impressed."

A smile tried to form on my lips. "Thanks, Den."

I realized that it had been a very long time since Dennis and I last talked. It was always a comfort of mine around Dennis, but now there was an underlying awkwardness. I grew puzzled with myself; when had the shift in our closeness happened? When had we drifted apart? After our slight pause, I heard Dennis shift slightly in his position beneath the large tree. His armor made strange noises against the rough bark. "I don't remember you being this…skilled. Not that I had any doubt that you would be. But you haves senses for the Undead that surpass even a paladin's abilities. It amazes me."

I chuckled dryly. "Well, it shouldn't. I'm only this attuned to the Scourge because of a freak accident." When I felt Dennis' aura shift to confusion, I sighed. "A lot happened while we were separated, Den."

"Well, I have all night."

So I explained everything that had happened to me. From the run-in with Clad to the visions to my unique grasp for Undead auras. "It's a part of me now," I whispered. "I may not have chosen what happened, but I'm certainly choosing to take advantage of it."

"Wow."

I grimaced. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"I never thought you'd be this…vital…to the war," Dennis mentioned. He sighed somewhat dramatically. "That Zen figure had better be keeping an eye on you."

I stifled a chuckle, even though the mention of Zen's name from Dennis seemed a tad awkward. "He doesn't need to keep an eye on me. I'm an initiated rogue. I can handle myself."

The man next to me shook his head. "Don't be silly. You and Zen have gotten much closer over these past few months. I'm not dumb, Grace."

"_Nothing _is going on between Zen and I."

"I'm not going to get upset, Grace," Dennis announced quietly, eyes fixed on Edgar as if he was afraid to wake him. "I want you happy. If that would mean you'd have to elope with a Tauren, I would bend him up some horseshoes for a wedding gift. I want you happy. If Zen is the one to do so, then I have no qualms."

"That's not completely true," I commented bitterly. It wasn't a growl towards Dennis—it was geared towards myself, for being so completely oblivious to my best friend's feelings. All those experiences with Zen, and did I ever stop to consider Dennis? He had always been there for me. Whenever I was in true need, and I simply threw it all in his face by running off with my rogue trainer? "It wasn't supposed to come to this, Den…"

"Don't play the guilty card again, Grace," Dennis berated. "I'm still here, aren't I? Don't worry. You're not losing me just because," he paused dramatically, "you've _completely _dashed my hopes and dreams." For effect he sighed in a mocking gasp of sorrow.

"I wish you'd stop being so damn chivalrous," I seethed. Dennis' head turned to me, and even though I couldn't make out his eyes in the moonlight I definitely felt his aura shift to curiosity.

"Chivalrous?"

"You and your stupid paladin virtues. Doing the honorable thing. I can't believe you're just going to sit there and let me fall into the arms of somebody else."

"Don't take this the wrong way," the paladin offered. "It's not because you have unlikable qualities-"

"This _isn't _about me!" I defended, my voice raising in volume the slightest. "Dennis, you should be able to act selfish for once. I don't think I've ever witnessed you making a slightly selfish decision." I sighed. "You're just too good for your _own_ good, I think."

"Well, what do you want me to do, then?" Dennis asked.

"I don't know!" I growled. "You should…demand that I reconsider. Give me an ultimatum. Do _something _so I don't feel as wicked!"

"That's not how I am," Dennis replied simply. He leaned back now, against the tree stump. "Especially with you. My only demand is that you be careful with yourself." My eyebrows knitted in confusion: how was I supposed to be careful at this stage of my life? "I'm sure Zen understands what I mean. If he truly cares, that is…"

It was hard to keep my reaction in check. I thought I did really well with handling Dennis' comments about Zen, until he drew in slightly closer. Cringing, I couldn't help but note that maybe I had winced the slightest once Zen's ability to care came into play. "Are you okay?" Dennis asked.

With a clenched jaw, I nodded.

The rest of the night we were silent. Dennis tried to get me to sleep, but my mind was still whirling with completely pointless thoughts.

My relationship with Dennis was finally resolved…for the most part. But a part of me had always wanted to believe what he offered me. A happy life with a family. Children. Did I want to have children in the future?

Would I be around long enough to have them?

It didn't matter if I dwelled on such things. I accepted long ago that nothing was promised of my future. Death was a guarantee for everyone, but it seemed to loiter around me especially. Numerous times I told myself that fighting for the Alliance and destroying the Scourge would be worth even my death, but now there was Zen. Now that there was Zen…

What did it matter if there was Zen? I wouldn't deter his judgment on the battlefield. It wouldn't cloud my conscience. And nothing was happening between us, anyway.

Which was easier to say now that we were apart. Everything was easier to assess when Zen was miles and miles away. Whenever we got close though, whenever his aura reached my senses…

I was startled awake when a hand nudged my shoulder. My eyes snapped open, senses immediately reaching out for any sign of danger, until I tracked Dennis and Edgar. Dennis was at my side, a slight smirk gracing his lips as he watched me adjust to the light.

"Time to move, Gracie," he announced, patting my shoulder. Edgar was already up, stretching his lower back as he surveyed the rising sun. My own muscles were sore as well, I realized, as I stood up from my slouched position. I reckoned trees weren't the best form of a sleep aid.

We began our steady journey south towards Ironforge. After a few moments of silent walking, Dennis tried to start a conversation: "So, these visions you have…they just come and go?" he asked curiously.

"More frequently as time passes," I answered as we trudged on. "In the beginning, it was triggered my strong emotions. But now it seems to happen almost at random."

If Edgar had no idea what Dennis and I were conversing about, he didn't hint at it. "So when it happens, you're incapacitated?" Dennis continued.

It helped pass the time away to talk, so I shrugged. "Basically. I'm working on that part of it. I can't be knocking myself unconscious in the middle of a battle or anything…"

Dennis chuckled. "Yes, I suppose that would…"

I didn't hear the rest of the sentence. My vision began to blur, causing me to stop my advances. I felt my body sway a bit in uneasiness, my hands held out to balance what little I had control over.

And then the surroundings weren't my own. I was Arthas, looking at a few others I assumed to be his best soldiers. Excitement laced my bones.

_We've spotted them. They're on the move, my King, _came a lower voice. A smile of evil caused my Undead lips to tighten.

_Then we exterminate of them accordingly, _I hummed, _before those documents fall into the hands of the humans. _

Then something I hadn't experienced before happened. My scene shifted to a landscape more familiar, but it was even more blurry and distorted than usual. I realized that Arthas must have been in one of his follower's heads, commanding through thought. I saw grass, hills, and nearly hundreds of Undead soldiers as Arthas' voice broke through. _A slight alteration to the plans, Y' tharan. Take the Plaguelands, but first eliminate these silly humans that have tried to defy the Scourge…_

The general Arthas was speaking to finally turned around, gaze leaving his ranks of Undead and instead mulling over the landscape. _Yes, my King. _His eyes remained on the body of water ahead, which looked familiar.

Too familiar.

It clicked while the vision began to fade. Once I returned to my own self, complete terror took over my form. I had remained standing throughout the incident, Dennis' hands gripping my arm to hold me up.

I shook. It was the only reaction I was able to muster as my breathing refused to steady itself. "Grace!" Dennis stated. "What happened? Was that..?"

"No, no," I muttered, not even listening to Dennis' inquiry. My eyes snapped to the lake not too far away, the same I had met in my vision. The distance was calculated in my head.

A hundred Undead soldiers were settled over that first hill. "Please don't tell me," I begged. "What do you have of theirs?" I demanded shakily. "What document?"

"How did you know about…"

Dennis must have sensed the army of Undead before he could finish his thought. His breathing halted as well, eyes blank as he calibrated the number of monsters awaiting over the hill.

"There's an army of them," I whispered. "They have orders to kill us."

Edgar's head snapped to my form, eyes wide in realization. "The Scourge?"

"They're moving," Dennis announced. All three of us turned towards the hill, watching in fear as the sun painted dark shadows across the green grass.

The first line of a dozen Undead was advancing slowly over the hill, with no sign of haste to their march. I was shaking uncontrollably by now, the realization of our situation finally coursing through all three auras and instilling utter panic within my bones.

Realization that death was now inevitable. That everything would end here.

The army had surmounted the small hill, several lines swaggering toward our meager group and lead by whom I assumed to be the general in my vision. I couldn't even move to draw my weapons—what was the point in wasted effort?

"Three humans versus eighty Undead," Edgar growled, taking his stance as if the actual number before us was under a dozen. "How do you like those odds?"

"How do you like two versus eighty?" Dennis countered coolly. Edgar and I both snapped our gazes towards the paladin, restlessness brimming with confusion. Without any sign of hesitation Dennis pulled a heavy envelope out of his inside pocket, then holding it out for me to take.

Edgar must have understood something I didn't as I took the important Scourge document out of Dennis' grasp. The warrior smirked. "I always wanted to go down in blazing glory."

Two. My fingers ached as they gripped forcefully on the pieces of paper before me when I finally came to realize what the men had silently agreed upon. "No," I nearly squeaked, I was so terrified. "Dennis, _what _are you planning?"

I couldn't help but notice that the Undead army was getting closer, details becoming more refined as they sought us out. They were so confident in their actions it disgusted me. "Your journey is not supposed to end here with ours," Dennis answered cryptically.

My eyes widened in horror, knees nearly buckling beneath me. "_No_," I stated more clearly. As if it would do much good, I forcefully pushed the documents towards Dennis' chest. "I'm not leaving. If you go, _I_ go."

Everything was moving too fast, too rapidly for me to settle down and access the situation. The Scourge was closing in, Edgar was glancing between us and the others, Dennis was trying to hide me from enemy sight, and bittersweet memories of Dennis, from my childhood to the present, began to crawl dangerously into my head.

"Don't you see, Grace? This is what I've been placed here for. You're far too important to the Alliance at this point, and those documents _must _make it back to Stormwind. It all fits, but you're too panicked to realize it."

"This isn't _supposed_ to happen!" I screeched desperately. "It's not fate, Dennis, it's _war_. I am not going to abandon my-"

"They've stopped. The attack is coming," Edgar warned. His voice wasn't as calm as Dennis', but he was truly making an effort to sooth the tension.

"You need to trust me," Dennis encouraged. "You're not going to die here, Grace. You're too important to the Alliance, and too important to me."

I shook my head violently, causing the hot liquid that had began to form beneath my eyelashes to slip down my cheeks. Dennis braced my arms, his strength the only reason I was still standing as my knees and hands shook. "Don't do this," I begged. "Don't make me."

"Trigger your hearthstone as soon as the protective shield activates." My body wanted to heave with sobs of terror and grief, but my desperation to plea with Dennis muffled the attempt to hiccups.

Dennis' hand went to my cheek, and I was nearly tempted to draw back, but fear had me rooted in place. His thumb then traced the same patterns across my forehead as they had Henri's, and then his lips, cold with fear, kissed the affected skin. The paladin I had loved for so long stepped back as the barrier enveloped me, a golden lining barely visible in the sunlight.

"Well," Edgar articulated, "now they're definitely on the move."

I glanced over Dennis' shoulder. Dozens of Undead monsters began their charge, the general's sword held up in premeditated triumph as his Undead horse reared its head. "Tell Lucas I did what I had to in order to keep you safe. And tell Zen it's his job to keep you that way." He cocked a boyish smile, the same one I had seen so much in our years growing up together, and it only caused an intensity in my sobs. Bitterly I wiped away relentless tears, determined to memorize Dennis' smile. I fumbled clumsily for my hearthstone, cynically hoping it would be unreliable and somehow wipe me off the earth. The green light took over as I traced the patterns on my stone. "We'll hold them as long as possible. Warn the others, Grace. The Plaguelands are corrupt."

"_Dennis_," I murmured.

"No regrets, Grace," berated Dennis. His arms raised, palms up, as he turned and faced the oncoming slaughter. They were so close now, so close… "No regrets." A bright light began to concentrate within his hands, causing me to whimper pathetically. The stone within my grasp was burning now, as I watched Edgar begin his charge towards the right side.

I heard Dennis shout something in a foreign tongue as the Light in his hands intensified, and then it all disappeared in a flash of green.


	10. Rogue, Pt 2

I was hoping for more reviews, but oh well! Here's the second half of the chapter!

**Rogue**

**Book Five, Part Two**

The first time I had hearthed to Stormwind, my senses had been distorted beyond realization, and the pain had been insurmountable to begin with. My journey through the port the second time around was definitely not more comfortable.

It still twisted my insides and skewed them a thousand different directions. I was still in pain as the magic acted, and I'm convinced that my severe grief had maximized the feeling to the limit.

At the same time, I didn't want to arrive at Stormwind. I couldn't fathom reentering my body, feeling the effects of witnessing Dennis' final moments and bearing the arising guilt of surviving.

I wasn't sure if the hearth had dropped me to the floor or if my body had simply collapsed, but my knees collided into a hard stone surface below me as I continued to cry in despair. My hands braced my weight as they hit the floor, my important papers fluttering and halting an arm's reach away. Other people were now noticing my appearance; I heard definite gasps and questions as I continued to sob uncontrollably.

Dennis was gone. Gone forever. I'd never be able to talk to him again, fight along side him again. My best friend, and it was all lost…

"_No_!" I howled defiantly, fist banging into the stone floor. My palm throbbed in response, but I didn't care. Why. Why was I allowed to survive?

"Child," someone called above me. I sensed many auras through my grief, the purity of them confusing my logistics. I opened my eyes for a slight moment, taking in my surroundings.

The Cathedral. An attack of sobs wracked my shoulders as I cinched my eyes shut and rested my forehead on the cool ground. I didn't want to be here. Take me back.

"Who is she?"

"Did she hearth?"

"What's this?" Someone picked up my package, the crinkle of parchment drowned out with my babbles. I was uncontrollable, and I had no desire to attempt to speak logistically. An attempt was made by me to manage my sobs, and it only made my internal pain erupt in moans. "Papers of the Scourge," someone mused. "But how…how did this girl get a hold of these?"

Someone was now bent down to my level, his hand on my shoulder. I refused to turn toward him, refused to acknowledge anything but my inner turmoil. After a few seconds of remaining curled up with a handful of paladins hovering above me, I grew tempted to bat them away. Instead of such an offensive gesture, my shaky hand fumbled inside my shirt until they wrapped around what I had been searching for. My sobs had died down to whimpering, but my vision was so blurry it hurt to open my eyes. Without glancing I knew I succeeded in acquiring the right object—the insignia of SI:7 was in the shape of a four-pointed star, a small '7' gracing the center. I slammed the pin onto the floor carelessly, then sliding it out for anyone to take. My arm retracted back to caress my stomach, which was now heaving so violently in my attempt to stop crying that I was beginning to feel physically ill.

"SI:7…"

"A rogue?"

I had started to rock back and forth, an attempt at taking my thoughts off of anything at the moment. Let me be, let me gather myself…

"Somebody get a representative from SI:7," one of them commanded, taking control. "Tell them a female has appeared in the Cathedral claiming to be a rogue."

_Claiming to be? _I wanted to roar. I've been through hell and back trying to save their own, and they want to question my position? After what I had just experienced, I had to put up with paladin protocol?

"Get her somewhere more remote."

A few hands reached out to lift me, but I pulled away from any contact. "_Don't touch me_!" I growled, choking on my growl. "Leave me alone, just leave me alone…"

"She's been traumatized."

"We still must move her. The children…"

I felt my body being lifted off the cold floor, but I felt detached—I had been emotionally unstable, attempting to keep myself steady, but now something else was pushing me further away from my body.

It was growing far too familiar, and this time, I had no desire or need to slip into Arthas' mind. It took my entire effort to remain in control, and attempting to stop the process before I crossed over was brutally tiring. The effort did no good, however; blue colors replaced darkness, and cold malice replaced insurmountable sorrow.

I didn't want to pay attention to my new environment, especially since the emotions coursing through Arthas would completely sync with my suffering. He was consumed with death and demolition, motivated to kill anything standing in his way.

_The Plaguelands will belong to the Scourge_.

_Now that those Paladins are wiped off the land, my legion will reign. _I chuckled, knuckles cracking as my fist clenched the blade at my side. It glowed an icy blue, the silver sparkling with the movement. Power emanated from the sword, reaching up through my cold fingers and seeping into my muscles and bones. It was the sword that bled ice through my system, compelled me towards the destruction of life, of anything that would stand in my way.

Through this image I still saw my own body's surroundings. It was incredibly blurry, as if Arthas' mind was an opaque screen blocking my own consciousness, but I could see a handful of paladins carrying me, see the large dome of a ceiling as I was dragged into a more secluded room.

This method of seeing the other side was far more difficult on my own self. I could feel my mental capacity stretch, straining my body and thoughts to the point of pain. It was highly uncomfortable—not because I could see both sides, witness Arthas' surroundings while viewing my own—but because that feeling within the King's bones, that cold and sinister sensation I could normally leave behind once I recovered, was now my own feeling.

As the blue images of the Scourge disappeared, I became even more aware of my own self. It felt as if I was returning to my own body. Fearfully I clenched my eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge any part of my senses. I was too afraid my emotions would thrive off my senses, still adjusted to Arthas' disturbing feelings of cold, heartless vindication.

The room felt like it was spinning. I attempted to control my breathing, for it was moving so rapidly I was concerned about slipping into the Undead realm again. Restraining myself was too painful, though. Every inhale helped spread an icy chill that began to cool the core of my body.

The frigid ice swept my body, causing me to grind my teeth. I had to remain in control. I couldn't allow myself to slip away. But I was _furious _with the Scourge, with that monster that considered himself a king. I wanted to personally rip every Undead thing to pieces, hear them howl in indescribable pain. Because of these feelings, it was difficult to fight the winter freezing over my usual warmth. It did no good to battle the hatred now growing within me: I had always hated the Scourge, and now they had pushed me to my breaking point, tested my human feelings to the highest degree.

My hands were still shaking, fingernails chattering against the marble floor. Now I wasn't sure whether the quivering was a result of anguish or rage: was I mourning a loss or damning the Scourge?

"An…Officer Jared…is here, sir."

"Bring him in."

"He's…brought a few friends…"

"Friends of SI:7 are our friends as well. They are all welcome."

No, don't let anyone in. Don't let Jared see me like this. Hesitantly, I searched the auras surrounding me, reaching out through the room. A few familiar auras, officers that were involved with my progress.

I curled up into a pitiful ball, pulling my knees into my chest and holding on tightly. My muscles strained with unnecessary effort. I wasn't only holding onto myself; I was trying my best to both keep my sanity rooted and distance the others from me.

Footsteps padded near me as Officer Jared arrived within the room. It was silent for a few moments, the shudders in my breath more obvious when everyone was silent, until Jared stooped over. His steady hand grasped my shoulder, causing me to wince and draw back.

"She's one of ours," Jared announced quietly, as if he'd disturb me further. "She was on a routine assignment. Grace." He attempted to rouse me, fingers tightening slightly over my shoulder. I gave no hint I acknowledged my own name. "Non-responsive. Brae, try to get some development from her."

_I'm not unconscious,_ I wanted to seethe. _And I'm not mental. I just want you to leave me alone._

Brae's two fingers went to my wrist to first check my pulse. It was coursing through my veins, alright—he didn't have to be a doctor to realize I wasn't stable. "Relax, Grace," he urged. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Relax? When I was so close to exploding with fury and rage?

I was afraid of what would happen if I let go. Would hatred consume me? Would I do something I would regret?

As Brae checked my vitals, checked for wounds that would cause blood loss, checked my head for any fatalities, and more or less determined what I had already known, Officer Jared murmured with the paladins I had startled with my arrival.

With the strength I had I slipped myself away from consciousness. I had to calm myself down so I could deliver the news. It was so hard, battling the cold that crept through my joints as well as the feeling of grief. No thinking about what had happened, no…

I didn't even realize Brae was addressing me until his voice broke the normal humming of conversation Jared was having. The officer's conversation halted, causing my senses to croon out at the change.

"She's not going to stir, Jared. Something happened to her during her leave. I think it's best that Zen…"

"And I'm sure Zen will not take kindly to seeing her like this."

"She's not responding at all, sir," Brae insisted. "Zen's the only one that might be able to rouse her. And I can guarantee Zen would much rather see Grace as she is now than not at all. You saw how he reacted at the news."

Zen…

My heart was hurting. Was that possible? Guilt and shame washed over me, and it was like water poured over ice, allowing my emotions to break through. A burning pain, like reaching the warmth of a fire once the body had trampled through freezing conditions. What would Zen think, after seeing me floored with emotions? All of his work and effort in developing such a lethal weapon…

I couldn't let my feelings get the best of me. I didn't want him to see me like that. I tried to protest, my voice merely groaning as I hid my face in the cold of the marble floor.

Zen had arrived. His warm aura blanketed my body, causing me to tense a bit in discomfort. After attempting to block out so much remorse and sorrow, the last thing I needed was soothing warmth. Don't comfort me.

My eyes were shut again, and the rest of my body was getting sore from effort. Perhaps I should have opened my mouth to speak, to tell everyone what was so dire, but I couldn't gather myself.

I felt the quick pace in Zen's strut as he arrived near me. I tried not to follow his aura as he kneeled beside me, or notice that it was rigid with worry. Not helping.

"Grace," he whispered, so calm it scared me. A warm hand went to my shoulder, heat spreading throughout my body. I groaned in anxiety, my control starting to fade with a single touch. It always happened with Zen.

He didn't bother being distant and diagnostic like the others had been. His arms went to my shoulders, and without a notion of effort he pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping securely around my small body. With an uncontrollable shudder I cursed Zen's rogue senses. My own aura was weakening at the touch, and if _I _could feel that, then surely the other rogue would as well.

"Let it go," he whispered softly. I was cradled in his lap, one of his arms behind my back as the other warmed my neck. I grew confused, my eyes nearly cracking open at the strange request. He couldn't possibly have any idea what was happening within me. "It's okay, I'm here. Let it go."

Every aspect of Zen was so warm, so welcoming and comforting. It demolished any barrier I had been trying to create, any attempt at keeping my emotions balanced. One hushed whisper from Zen, and I melted.

I hiccupped at first, tears again accumulating beneath my eyelashes. With a small shudder I broke down, silently sobbing as Zen merely held me in his arms.

With whatever strength I still had left, my hands gripped the collar of Zen's jacket. My sobbing wasn't as intense as previously, but the grief and guilt was still there, reminding me of my predicament.

It was a long while before I was too tired to cry. Zen pulled away, his own green orbs misted over as I gathered enough determination to open my eyes. He was real, at least, not some hallucination I had mustered during my stress. Finally, his jaw tightened in determination. "What happened, Grace?"

They had to be informed. What if Arthas was planning a huge siege at this very moment on the Plaguelands? What if I was too late?

"There were only three survivors when I arrived. While we were trying to escape the nighttime, one of the paladins was bitten, and Dennis had to purge him…end his suffering."

"Dennis?" Zen repeated. The group of paladins were now muttering again, shaking their heads. I nodded in assertion, keeping a steady gaze on the floor because seeing the reactions around me wasn't helping. I inhaled sharply.

"It was clear. Everything looked fine, until…" I hesitated, wondering if I could reveal my hidden talent amongst the paladins. Would they rule me as purely demonic if they found out I could envision the Undead's moves? "I saw them coming towards us. It was enough time for Dennis to hand me…that information," I nodded towards the parchment one of the paladin's was holding. As if subconsciously, the man's clutch tightened over the papers. "Dennis and Edgar stayed behind, to exterminate as many as possible. But an entire army arrived…they had no chance," I uttered, nearly squeaking as I recounted the last moments I witnessed. "Dennis insisted I return." Holding my breath, I looked around, searching for anyone that may believe me. "The Scourge has started an assault on the Plaguelands. If we don't act now, it'll be overrun."

At first the near silence took over the room, until finally a few paladins shuffled in their position all at once. "We are very aware of the state of the Eastern and Western Plaguelands," mentioned one of the Light's soldiers. I recognized his voice from earlier-this man had directed the others when I arrived. It was a bit surprising that his features hadn't struck me before, even while I was concentrating on other things—across his right eye was a thick eye patch. His black, coarse hair emphasized his haggard look as he gazed strictly upon me with his good eye. "The Argent Dawn is completely capable of monitoring the situation."

Bewildered, I shuffled my eyes through the others. "Your own soldiers wanted me to warn you, they witnessed it themselves before they died! The attack is coming!" I insisted. I was growing more furious by the moment—after what I had experienced, they dared to consider my claims? "We have to act _now_!"

"She's traumatized," one of the other men insisted. "Officer Jared, I suggest you take your rogue and have her get some rest."

I felt the muscles in my neck tense under pressure as I staggered onto my feet. "I demand to speak to the Archbishop."

"He's unavailable at the moment," the paladin with the eye patch said with a clip. "I'm Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker. I serve beneath our Archbishop. Anything you feel compelled to say to him you should relay to me."

Withholding a growl, I then spun around to my own people, Zen and Jared. "Where's Major General Rillhelm?" I demanded quickly. "He'll listen. Somebody _has _to-"

"He's busy as well," muttered Jared. Mouth agape, my arms rose in confusion.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"While you were gone, the king returned, alive and well," answered Zen. "There's a huge celebration in the streets. All of Stormwind's leaders have gathered, and-"

"Arthas is ready to pounce, and Stormwind is celebrating?" I asked, now unable to direct my frustration at any specific person. "Our cities are a mana tap away from Scourge invasion, and nobody here is going to admit it?"

"The Scourge is being watched with a scrutinizing eye," Lord Grayson announced thickly, his chin rising as my antagonism heightened.

"My apologies, but one eye isn't enough for the Scourge," I seethed, not very careful about indirectly offending a Lord of the Light. "How many more must die before we stop watching and start acting?" I demanded.

"Grace," droned Zen, an obvious warning from behind me.

"A thousand?" I continued angrily anyway. "_Ten_ thousand more of our own?"

"Watch your tongue, _rogue_," spat Lord Grayson like my affiliation was a disease. "You are in the Cathedral of Light. It would serve you well to show a little more respect for your superiors."

I never did get very good at that sort of thing. After swallowing a growl of frustration, I snatched my SI:7 badge off the floor and continued to hook it onto my jacket. "It's a terrible day for the Alliance when the soldiers of the Light deliberately ignore a foreboding enemy's advances," I seethed, then turned and pushed through the baffled group of people.

"What an insolent brat!" growled Lord Grayson, who took a step towards my retreating form. Before he could continue to speak, Zen slipped by him as well, his eyes warning the man to back down.

"Where are you going, Grace?" asked Officer Jared, who peered past the huddle among me.

"There's one person within these walls now who can't ignore a threat on his people. He'll listen."

I went to turn towards the long hallway when a laugh halted my attempt. "You think you can simply demand an audience with the King?" roared Grayson.

I refused to listen to anymore ignorance. Turning on my heels, I continued to stalk out of the Cathedral on a mission. The sunlight nearly blinded me, but that wasn't my worst worry as I had to weave in and out of hordes of people waiting for a glimpse of their king.

Zen caught up, his figure visible in the corner of my eye. "Grace, are you sure…?"

"Dennis left me one task before he died," I explained. "To warn our people. I can't ignore certain doom. I can't let Dennis die in vain," I announced as I slipped by a very large woman carrying bushels of flowers.

We turned, now adjacent to the canals as I managed a more brisk pace towards the Stormwind Keep. Anything to keep me on task, to keep my mind from getting in touch with my heart's emotions.

Fireworks were being set off one after another, again reminisce of terrified screams until they erupted into large booms that shook my eardrums. The door of the keep was visible now, open but heavily guarded by a handful of soldiers that kept the audience at bay. I growled; there was no way I'd get past all of the people so eager to see the king, and then manage to convince the guards to let me through.

I was a rogue. I was accustomed to the difficult, more dangerous way. With a slight nod I turned to Zen. "How well do you know the layout of the Keep?" I asked obtusely.

Zen wasn't taken for a moment. His eyes minimized into slits. "Grace, you can't just slip into the King's keep. That's a deliberate attempt at breaching the King's defense."

"I thought you lived life on the edge," I grumbled, still scanning the building for any fault in the layout.

Sighing in defeat, Zen grabbed my hand and pulled me through the audience, away from the entrance. As we continued to struggle through the bustle of so many people, a slight smog took over the air.

"The Dwarven District?" I asked, nearly losing my footing as Zen tore to the right.

"Don't bite the hands that feeds," growled the other rogue, who still had a firm grip on my hand even though the crowds had thinned out to nearly nothing. A few dwarves roamed their own streets, not looking very amused at the loud noises coming from over the walls. One with a blackened beard—from soot or otherwise—clutched a jar of rum as he staggered down the pathway muttering things about 'part-time royalty.'

Zen led me around a massive crane-looking contraption, to where a mass of crates were sitting. He hopped gracefully up a stack of them like a stairway, then motioning to me as his foot caught the highest box. "Hurry," he insisted, arms out, "if these dwarves see anything out of the ordinary…"

Nodding, I followed Zen up the crates, wincing slightly as one of them swayed beneath my weight. In no time I was beside the male rogue, and he didn't hesitate in hoisting me up with his arms so I could pull myself up onto the dwarven house.

Luckily, the dwarves were small. Small stature meant small buildings. On my stomach I helped Zen climb up onto the roof, and we both sat there momentarily, catching our breath. Zen was so confident as he gazed forward, so focused. I waited for him to continue.

Finally, he nodded towards the stone wall ahead of us. "That's the wall of the keep. Over that wall is the courtyard, which opens directly into the rest of the Stormwind Keep. I'm not sure how guarded this area's going to be, since most of them seem to be focused on keeping the townsfolk at bay."

"Two rogues? I think we can handle it," I commented lightly. Zen didn't bother hiding a roll of his eyes.

"Hurry."

Grumbling to myself, I balanced myself on my legs, careful not to fall forward on the angular roof. For a moment I calibrated the jump, then sprung forward over the gap with outstretched hands.

I felt my ribs contact the top of stone wall, my knees scraping as I hugged on to the wall's top with shaky arms. With a strength I hadn't needed to use in a while I pulled my entire body up onto the small plateau.

Needless to say, Zen's leap was much more graceful and thought out. With his jump he managed to arrive on the thin wall on his own two feet. To keep himself from falling forward off the wall he crouched down, fingers gripping the stone behind him.

"Show off."

Smirking, Zen continued to monitor the courtyard now below us. I closed my eyes, trying to sense how many auras were loafing about.

"There's a few guards," I announced in a whisper.

Zen nodded, already knowing the information. "The courtyard should be clear for now." Without a look my way, he dropped down, landing within the grass of the court without so much as a ruffle of a noise. Again I followed, not bothering to get angry at Zen's unusual distance. The other rogue was now in assassin mode—there was no informality at this point, no friendly looks or smiles.

With little time to waste I was beside Zen, and we were sneaking through the courtyard. Trees were acceptable cover as we neared the opening that would apparently lead to the King. A guard was pacing back and forth at the doorway, causing Zen to remain completely still.

I was beginning to worry—the guard was now walking through the doorway, into the courtyard, and Zen was drawing one of his throwing weapons. I was fairly certain that killing our own Royal Guard was a bigger transgression than breaking in, so the fact that Zen was considering such a solution had me startled.

Then Zen's weapon was whirling toward a tree a dozen feet or so away. It hit something solid with a _thunk_, which was followed by a loud squeak as a squirrel tumbled out of the safety of the tree.

Sighing, I couldn't help acknowledge that despite the unorthodox approach, it was still skilled and had caught the guard's attention. The soldier paced towards the tree, curious, as Zen and I managed to slip behind him and arrive within the walls of the keep.

It wasn't difficult to then continue to where the king would be—only one more guard was met along the way, but Zen and I were easily out of his detection.

There was a rumble of conversation sifting form what Zen said was the War Room-a break of laughter hinted that perhaps the conversation had little to do with war.

"No, my friends, I can assure you," a deep voice announced, "as amusing as my plight was at times, there were also many misfortunes..."

Zen looked at me expectedly, his bright green eyes daring me to move. With a huff of breath I wet my lips and stepped into the room.

At the arrival of somebody who obviously hadn't been invited, everyone turned startled glances at me. A few guards, previously minding that the walls stayed in place, now took animated steps towards me, ready to draw their swords.

Before then, I had never seen the king up close. I new roughly what he looked like—long black hair, broad shoulders—but for some reason, no one had mentioned how definite his features were. The time away had obviously affected his features—dark circles shadowed his eyes, permanent creases in his face made him look years older than he actually was.

He had been facing the entrance as I arrived, and when I bowed in respect at the doorway, he and the woman to his right stood. "My King," I announced as clearly and friendly as possible.

"Guards!" barked the young woman. Gulping, I attempted to control my shallow breathing.

"Wait!" I begged, torn between glancing up and keeping my gaze on the ground.

I felt Zen arrive behind me, as well as the obvious shift of curiosity in the others. "Zen?" I recognized Major General Rillhelm's voice, but I didn't dare move my eyes. "What is the meaning of this?"

"She wishes to speak with the King," Zen replied coolly, making the situation sound much more informal than it actually was. "We mean no harm."

"My Lord, we can be rid of these nuisances…" The girl was insisting yet again, making my eyes finally snap upward.

To my surprise, I saw King Wrynn raise a single hand to stop her proposition. Everyone held their tongues accordingly. "It's quite okay, Jaina," he said, his eyebrows clenched in curiosity. "Let the girl speak."

[end]

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	11. Departed

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**Departed**

**Book Six, Part One**

Relief flushed throughout my body, so overwhelming that I paid no mind to Jaina's obvious scoff of disbelief. "She obviously has something important to share," King Wrynn surmised.

"My name is Grace Fulstorm," I began. "I'm a rogue in SI:7. I've just arrived from an assignment in the Plaguelands, and I can say first handedly that…" I winced, trying to come up with the best method of informing the king without crossing the line. "I'm not sure how much you know about the Scourge, my King…"

"I'm well informed," he answered, attempting to coax me on.

I hesitated. "They've infested the Plaguelands. An entire army has already wiped out a group of paladins and warriors. I'm afraid we must act now before our race is truly in danger."

The king, eyebrows still creased, looked me over contemplatively. Without a glance at his advisors, who by now were stirring in their seats, he leaned forward more intently.

"Miss…Fulstorm, you have first-handed witness of this, you say?"

I nodded. "I shouldn't be alive talking to you, but I survived so that our people would be warned."

King Varian Wrynn nodded slightly, caught in thought as he then scanned the superiors seated around him. His blue eyes again found mine. "I thank you, Miss Fulstorm, for the timely warning. Your concern I shall address with my peers."

I frowned. "My King, hasn't there been enough talking? Can't the Alliance send reinforcements? I'm sure the Argent Dawn isn't vast enough to…"

"You have to understand that the human race is simply one piece to the Alliance. We have our allies' opinions and concerns to consider…"

"I'm fairly certain they'd all agree that getting wiped off this realm by a mass of zombies isn't in our best interests," I cut off rather rudely, I'll admit. The king, however, didn't waver.

"There is much you don't understand about matters such as these, child. Large movements of warfare require time, planning, finances…"

"It all has to start somewhere!" I uttered, nearly pouting. I could feel the defeat before it came, sense that my argument no longer mattered.

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Fulstorm. Your worries shall be addressed. In the meantime, respect your king's wishes and return to SI:7."

Entirely speechless for getting shot down, I nearly gaped at the group before me until I was able to gather myself enough to clip my mouth shut and bow awkwardly. Without any more options, I turned around and walked out of the War Room.

The entire way to Zen's place, I made no attempt at communication. My mind was whirling again, recalling what I had witnessed before being transported to Stormwind. Dennis' unwavering expression, conveying his conviction of no regrets, wouldn't leave my mind. The Light he had concentrated on his hands before I was taken away left white dots dancing around just out of my eyesight.

I would clench my eyes shut in an attempt to keep it all out, but then his smile would be there, waiting for me to feel a pulse of guilt blast my temples.

And what was I to do about it? I was at a dead-end. One rogue couldn't do anything else to fight the plague hovering above us.

"I'll be back later," I finally muttered as we arrived at Zen's doorstep. I was surprised the words even came out to make sense, I felt so distant from reality.

"Grace, you look terrible," Zen mentioned. "You need some rest."

"No. I need to tell my mother," I corrected, finding it hard to swallow as I pictured my mother's fearful face. It was a death terribly close to the family; Dennis was so much like a son, a brother…

"Would you like some company?" Zen asked.

I shook my head. Zen prodded no more. Once he disappeared into the apartment, I set off. Each step made it harder and harder to continue to my mother's house. This would be even harder, I knew, than it was to keep myself together at the cathedral. This time, my audience would know my pain, would understand, and would expect me to grieve.

I stared at the front door for who knows how long. I could hear the clatter of dishes as mother washed the plates used during lunch. Matthew must have been lighting the fire to begin preparing supper. They chatted cheerily, considering the house's empty state; ever since Lucas, Dennis and I left…

My hand lifted, hovering over the weathered door as I gathered enough courage to bear the horrible news. The skin was pale, knuckles more prominent than I remembered as my blue veins branched off them.

It had to come at some point. I rapped on the door, wincing with every punch on the hollow surface like they were stabs at my heart. In moments shorter than I had hoped Matthew was opening the door, a huge smile on his face until he noted my appearance. "Grace?"

The door opened fully, my mother's figure coming into view as I leaned into the doorframe, my fingers now clutched. She always had a knack for reading me; she froze, a look of horror on her face as her hands fell from her apron. "No," she stated with defeat, a hand gripping my forearm. "My son..." Wincing in both pain and dread, I shook my head.

"Not Lucas," I choked, forcing myself to look into my mother's eyes. "Dennis is gone, mom, he died…"

Her face hardened, and I saw Matthew shift uncomfortably in his position, gaze falling to the floor. "Oh, no," she whispered, sorrow painting her words and lining her face. Tears pricked against my will in the corners of my eyes, and before I could even cover the trail with my hand, my mother's arms were around me in a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry, Gracie."

A strangled cry burned my throat as another pang of guilt took over my body. This wasn't supposed to be about my grief, and yet there my mother was comforting _me_. And again I found myself broken, now crying in the arms of a mother who would always put my feelings before her own.

When I left, she didn't even warn me about my own close calls with death as she normally did. I departed silently, eyes drooping with tiredness as I entered the gates of Stormwind. I didn't feel any better once I arrived at Zen's; I went straight into my bed, ignoring Zen's form as he leaned against the counter patiently. Sighing, I collapsed in my bed, noting that I didn't feel any better for letting it all go. Now I was drained, tired, sore, defeated, and miserable.

I slept until the following afternoon. When I did open my eyes again, I hung my head as I sat up, attempting to gather myself enough to move out of bed. Once I felt composed enough, I stood on my creaky bones and shrugged on my rogue gear silently.

Zen caught me before I reached the door. "You're going on assignments today?"

I sighed in weariness. "What else am I supposed to do?" I asked hopelessly, emotionlessly.

"Don't act like that," demanded Zen in a whisper.

Ignoring the request, I continued to Officer Jared's office.

He seemed cautious in doing so, but Jared allowed me to escort one of the rogue trainees on a red five-man mission. It was another assassination.

I remember seeing a group of Undead charge our five rogues, their bones grinding as they galloped toward me with growls of hunger. I remember drawing my daggers with my own hunger for blood.

I became a force to be reckoned with. Nothing quenched my thirst for vengeance. In two days I had completely destroyed hundreds of their despicable kind with revenge on my mind.

It was my fury that pushed me past feeling anything. Killing was nothing when the other option was undeath. Dennis' sacrifice would not be in vain, I promised myself.

The second full day was the memorial for those lives lost in the Plaguelands. Zen and I dressed silently—I wore a simple clothe dress, white in color; I tried not to think about what kind of silly remarks Dennis would have made at seeing me in a white dress.

My hair was down for the ceremony—I remember because as we walked up into the massive threshold of the cathedral, the wind tussled my tresses and invaded my line of sight. From magic or mother nature herself, flower petals fell to the floor like snow. The white and gold within the building was nearly blinding, and if it wasn't from my blurry vision from crying, I would have had to squint to see.

It was a ceremony consisting of mostly priests and paladins—their respectful banners decorated the halls. The leaders of each lead in the memorial, their golden garments signifying importance.

"Today, we gather to celebrate the lives of a group of noble, holy men and women, who valiantly fought against the powers of evil on this earth…"

I shuddered. It was very difficult to concentrate. Not when these auras around me held such resemblance to my best friend's, whom I would never get to see again…

The speeches blurred by. "We pray that the holy Light embrace our departed and welcome them into the warmth of honor and nobility…" I nearly choked on a sob, my arm flying from my side and hand clutching Zen's arm. He didn't seem miffed; his hand grabbed my own, my vice grip softening the slightest.

Day three, I caught glimpses of Arthas' plans consisting of another attack within the Eastern Plaguelands. I ran to Officer Jared, notifying him immediately of the looming attack on our towers.

At first, he was wary in believing me. And once I did convince him that I was fully confident that what I saw was happening, it didn't mean he was going to consent to my request.

"We have to send reinforcements," I prompted quickly. "The Lich King knows it's an easy take. If he gets control of all four bases, he'll easily take the rest of the continent." Jared said nothing, his eyes still looking me over contemplatively. "You have to listen to me," I begged, crazed aura contradicting my low rumble. "He's planning a siege."

"Grace, your talents as a rogue are very promising," Jared began opaquely, "and I've always trusted you in the past. But if I request that Rillhelm send a troop…do you realize how suspicious that will look?"

"Rillhelm knows of my ability," I defended.

"But the other leaders of Stormwind do not," added Jared. I shifted in my position, nearly ready to leave by myself if I had to.

"Since when has SI:7 worried about what the rest of the class leaders think?" questioned Zen's smooth voice. "Jared, you and I both are well aware that the consequences faced would be far more overwhelming if news arrived that an attack came and we did nothing."

I vaguely recalled my induction into SI:7, and how Jared had basically persuaded Zen to allow my passage. Now, Zen was obviously equipping his own tricks to convince Jared.

Apparently another qualification to be a rogue was eloquence—yet another trait I surely didn't have.

"When does he plan on attacking?" Jared finally asked.

"Tomorrow at sunset. 'When darkness always prevails'," I quoted from my memory.

"Okay. I'll have troops ready to depart at noon. Though I can't promise any certain number. Grace, if this attack never comes…"

"You can take back my SI:7 badge," I promised.

Neither Jared nor Zen liked that comment very much.

When noon finally did arrive, Zen and I met Officer Jared at SI:7, and the rogue's face was hard to read.

His aura, though, was frigid with stress. "I've got your troops," he answered our unspoken question.

"How many soldiers?" asked Zen.

"More than I anticipated. The king was…mildly amused when I mentioned Grace's insistence."

"Of course he was," I grumbled. "The only reason he's sending aid is because he doesn't think his men are in danger." I shook my head in pity. "No one thinks we're in danger."

"Whether he believes you or not, he's giving you your army," Jared said. "They gather at the Keep."

All three of us arrived at the designation, where rows of men and some women rallied up for a battle.

"The mage sector refused to send any aid," Jared explained as he shuffled us through the ranks. "You have a dozen or so warlocks, but only because those are the non-ranked locks that have nothing better to do. Most classes were voluntary recruitment, the paladins especially…they've lost so many already…"

"Lots of warriors," commented Zen.

"They're fearless, what can I say," muttered Jared matter-of-factly. "There's a few priests, even more rogues…"

As if on cue, Zen's old friend Cole arrived out of the crowds, patting his friend on the back. Robert, the apprentice I knew all-too-well, shadowed his mentor.

"I couldn't let you two have all the fun," commented Cole with a grin. While Zen chattered a bit with the other rogue, I turned toward Jared. "How many total?" I asked, attempting to estimate the numbers before me but unable to concentrate.

"Roughly a hundred and fifty," Jared finally answered. "I wish Stormwind could lend a druid or two, but you'll have to hope the Argent Dawn pulls through for you on that one."

I nodded. In less than an hour our army was indiscreetly parading through Stormwind and heading toward the Eastern Plaguelands as quickly as possible. Before we hit the gates of our city, Brae had found me and Zen, a smirk on his face as well.

"You too?" I asked.

"My serums are far too helpful for me _not _to go. I'm hoping I can save some of our own before they…you know."

I nodded. "I'm glad you're coming, Brae. Word gets around pretty quick within these walls."

"Some of us have been waiting for an opportunity to fight."

Zen was the next one to bother me along the way. "Are you okay?" he asked carefully near dusk. We were still moving, about halfway to our destination. By the looks of things, our resting stop wouldn't be a long one…once it did come.

"I'm okay," I assured, stretching my back to rid of the discomfort. "Thanks," I finally muttered. "For believing me."

"I know you have no reason to lie about these things." We continued walking a bit, allowing the fallen leaves below us to crunch beneath dragging feet. "Do you think this'll be enough?"

I exhaled audibly, weary because the question had sifting through my mind as well. "I'm not sure how great his numbers will be in the Plaguelands, but I can assure you that he isn't anticipating any sort of a fight. And I haven't caught any of his thoughts on the matter…I would cross over if his emotions peaked at all…"

"In realization," Zen surmised.

"His creations in the Plaguelands are developing, and could prove to be worthy adversaries. I'm hoping our presence will be a big enough surprise to push him back."

Our band stopped to rest once before finally arriving at Light Hope's chapel in the Plaguelands. It was under the cover of night, and the leaders of the Argent Dawn currently stationed at the chapel were thoroughly confused in our arrival.

Exhaustion had rendered my body useless, but my mind was still functioning the slightest. Zen had me explain the premonition I acquired, and how necessary it was that we prepare for a battle within the twenty four hours.

The rest was a blur. At some point that night I had opted to go to sleep, too exhausted to even find a decent place to lie, and opting for a pew in the cooled chapel. Zen was talking one of the leaders of the Argent Dawn named Nicholas Zuerenhoff as I drifted. It was cold upon the hard surface of the pew, but Zen's warming aura only steps away, as well as the calming lull of his voice allowed me to slip away.

Apparently plans of action began as I slept. Before I woke up the following day the Argent Dawn had already acted. Zen filled me in as I sat up in the pew. My back was incredibly sore, my spine raw as I rubbed the forming bruise. "Overnight, the western tower's guards were evacuated. The Argent Dawn is hoping to keep the casualties to a minimum. Also helps with the element of surprise. We agreed—didn't want the flood of Stratholme to concentrate on the first tower they come to."

I nodded quietly, eyes still adjusting to what little light the stained glass did allow within the chapel. "When do we start moving into position?" My voice cracked due to the lack of use in the cool air.

"Not for a bit. I brought some bread and water. You need something in your system before we begin."

It was noon, I noted, as I ate with Zen near me. He looked incredibly weary, and a new flood of guilt was coming over me. "Did you get any sleep?" I asked softly. The other rogue blinked, as if not completely understanding the question, and then quirked a small smile.

"I don't need sleep."

Scowling, I shook my head. "You look terrible." Zen chuckled, nimble fingers flicking his short bangs off his forehead.

Others had left towards their assigned bases, only because a flock of Alliance _anywhere _was certain to draw suspicion. As Zen led me to our designated southern tower, he informed me that we had already caught the attention of another adversary over the night. As if to prove a point, he stopped and shook his head.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you feel anything around us…any auras that are…off?"

Frowning, I tried to concentrate on sensing anything around me. I felt the obvious absence of any Undead impurities; instead, there was a different kind of sensation. "What…" I looked around expectedly. "What kind of…?"

"Horde." Zen smirked. "They're curious. The silly Alliance abandoned all of their towers, and now they're preparing for an apocalypse known only to themselves."

"You think they'll try anything?" I asked, clenching my fists in an attempt at withholding my irritation.

"The Horde you detected were a couple of Tauren. Spies. Meaning they very well could be up to something. The Horde and Alliance are always vying for control of these towers. Perhaps they'll see it as a challenge."

"A challenge from a handful of troublesome cows is the last thing we need." I looked at Zen, really looked at him, for the first time in days—past the sagging eyes and crooked smile. I was momentarily floored by the intensity in his green eyes. Hitching a breath, I had to force my own eyes to the dirt at my feet to avoid his curious gaze. "If anything, we need their cooperation."

"Well, I'll leave that to you. Perhaps you can invite the trolls over for some evening tea." My jaw clenched so I wouldn't bite back with a scathing response. "That was a joke," Zen muttered as we neared our destination. "You've been taking things so seriously."

"It's how I was trained," I replied bluntly, trying with much difficulty to ignore Zen's pause of disbelief. I made three sturdy steps ahead before Zen's slim hand found my wrist, his yank effectively turning me toward him. I nearly fell into Zen, my momentum was so fierce.

His other hand locked around my opposite upper arm, leaving me no leverage to pry away; I was at the mercy of his blaring anger now.

It had felt like this another time, when Zen's irritation at me was so overwhelming he had to confront me about it. Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, feeling the aura around him heat up, didn't make it any easier to handle than it was last time.

"Grace."

Why was he so close? Zen's mouth was to my ear, although the otherwise intimate encounter was accompanied by no other soothing contact. He distanced himself from me, purposefully positioning himself close enough to feel but far enough to let it hurt.

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be," I whispered.

"Make _what _harder than it has to be?" demanded Zen. I swallowed audibly, refusing to acknowledge that I couldn't weasel out of this corner. "Grace, Dennis wouldn't want you living like this."

"Zen!" Both of us turned toward the call, to see Cole and Robert striding quickly down the path we had been taking. The rogue before me loosed his grasp, shaking his head to let me know our conversation wasn't finished. "Figured the two of you would know where the real action would be," Cole announced as the four of us continued walking.

"Actually, I'm guessing Zen's just trying to keep me away from the true danger," I grumbled. "This fort's the farthest out of the way."

"Old habits die hard," commented Cole with a smirk Zen scoffed his disapproval. "How's your rogue career going, Grace?" asked Cole.

"More challenging than anticipated," I answered honestly.

"That's why I'm in no hurry with Robbie here." Cole mentioned his apprentice as if he was a younger brother. "Preparing him fully before he sets off."

"I was well prepared," I stated, suddenly feeling the need to come to Zen's defense.

"Of course you were," Cole said. "I simply meant…Well, Zen is a very talented rogue…"

Once our group arrived at the tower, Cole and Rob split to the other present rogues. I stayed at Zen's side, all the while taking a good look at our surroundings.

The tower was small, and only two storied. A rickety paneling acted as a hangover on the second floor, good for ranged attacks—only a handful of soldiers could stand on it, though. The two stories probably held thirty or so people each, and approximately one hundred men and women were now stationed here. Hopefully under the cover of night our numbers still had an element of surprise. We needed them to hesitate, to second guess their motives so we could obliterate them.

Zen and I sat on the first floor as others began sifting in as close as possible to receive orders. "I don't like the idea of Robert being here," I grumbled as my eyes found the boy I spoke of. "One more mindless imp that could cost the fight."

"I'd rather have him where I can see him," said Zen. "I still haven't quite absolved him as of yet."

"For what?"

"His mistake nearly killed you," Zen answered shortly. "Cole admitted the details of that red mission. Both of them felt terrible, but…" He sighed. "And I wasn't there, either. I was your teacher, I was supposed to protect you, and I wasn't…"

"Don't blame yourself," I whispered. "Some things are out of our control." For a moment my mind flinched back to my last moments with Dennis. Unavoidable…

"The guilt doesn't leave."

I nodded.

Apparently Zen had managed to take charge sometime during the night as well. He stood to address the mess of others now awaiting directions intently. "I want to thank all of you for joining us today." He continued to explain the Scourge's route, as well as the chances we had at encountering Horde. "Defend the tower," Zen insisted. "If you fight on the roads, you deserve whatever's in store for you. If we find ourselves flanked by both Scourge and Horde…" A smirk lifted his paling skin. "Just await orders. This is serious, and the attack I can nearly guarantee one-hundred percent." His hands slid comfortably and rested at his hips. "But I'm sure you are looking forward to that."

A few men jeered loudly, obviously ready to use their training for a cause.

Zen managed to explain nearly everything about the strategies, and he finally looked at me. "Anything you care to add?" he asked softly.

"I'd explain the Undead," I muttered. "How lethal the bite is."

"Right." His fingers fiddled beneath his chest guard, finally pulling out a familiar bubbling potion. "They _do _bite. Although their claws aren't venomous, the bites are definitely deadly. You will turn, unless," he showed off the tube, "you see me. The bite will be painful. It," the rogue paused, nudging toward me once more. "Grace, you've experienced it. Care to share?"

My mouth opened to decline, but now a hundred pairs of eyes were on me. I stood uneasily, nervously trying to avoid stepping on hooves and legs. "Um…it's an internal fire that just…starts at the bite…and spreads. Through skin, muscle, and bone. It burns to the point of agony. I've survived twice now because of this serum. It's the only way to survive it." Zen nodded his approval, forcing me to continue. "So stay away from teeth. Through experience I can say a blow to the heart is the quickest way to finish them. And I'm not sure how advanced their warfare will be, but be on the lookout for projectiles, gases…the Scourge has been experimenting with different weapons."

After my little breakdown, I moved away quickly from the center of attention. Zen wrapped up, but my mind had wandered elsewhere. Little time was left before it began. Was our army going to present a challenge to the Scourge as they advanced, or had I simply increased the number of Alliance casualties suffered tonight?

Did I sentence all of us to a Forsaken fate?

To keep my mind off the extremely sore subject, I opted to look around at the others. Some were eating—only hours remained until we would exhaust our energy. We weren't composed of only humans now: Night Elves, Draenei, Gnomes, Dwarves…many races belonged to the Argent Dawn.

One male Night Elf in particular sat across from me, his eyes finding mine as often as mine found his. I had never really gotten a good glimpse at the more exotic Draenei and Night Elf races except in books—certainly I had never encountered them this close in real life. I had read about them, studied their features, seen them from afar, maybe—but a living specimen, right at my fingertips, was so much more fascinating.

The daggers at his sides screamed rogue, but what caught most of my attention was his body that peeked from under his Argent Dawn tabard. His skin was almost reminiscent of a tone close to human, except in the nighttime the pale skin glittered with blue. The glow was especially evident in his eyes, brilliant in the darkness and perfectly adapted to seeing at night. His long hair was a dark blue that coincided nicely with the rest of his color, tied loosely behind his back to stay out of the way. He had the typical lean figure of an elf, his muscular arms and legs reminding me of Zen's body structure, although his pointed ears clearly assured the two had no relation. I felt compelled to look him over, in awe at the indescribable timelessness in his angular face. The Night Elf was magically handsome, even as he slouched against the tower's wall, silver eyes drifting to my own figure every once in a while.

At some point he got up to stretch, but instead of taking his usual position moved to stand at my feet. "I'm mildly surprised at the number of fellow rogues here to aid our cause," he began. His voice had a musicality to it, much like Zen's, but deeper. It seemed unnatural to be coming from such a fitted figure.

I chuckled at his remark. "My branch of SI:7 is odd. Despite the individuality of our class, we tend to stick together."

"Hm." The Night Elf rogue looked to the wall I sat against, then smiled at me. "My name is Taellor."

"I'm Grace." I shook his hand, noticing how his long fingers seemed to smother my own frail hand. With one motion I invited him to sit next to me, and he took it, fluidly setting himself in his same slouched position.

"Sorry to come off slightly odd, but…" he paused, looking into my eyes, "I have never seen a human with eyes such as yours."

"Oh?" I blinked, momentarily forgetting that I looked different at all. "Oh. My eyes. They're not natural. It's just another side effect of the Scourge."

Taellor frowned in confusion, his perfect blue eyebrows slightly ruffled. "Purple eyes from a bite?"

"That, or the anti-serum they gave me to rid of the poison," I explained poorly. "My second encounter with Undead venom was a poison gas. It required a different potion to reverse it, so the purple's origin is slightly unknown."

It was far more complicated to explain the gas, I decided, so I dropped off before I went on a tangent. Luckily Taellor didn't ask for details on the 'how.'

"Well, they're very spectacular," the Night Elf concluded. He chuckled, the sound more of a rumble in his chest. "I was considering many different reasons to your eye color. Even mixed race. But your ears seem pretty Human to me."

"Mixed." I quirked an eyebrow. "Half Human, half Night Elf?"

"Something like that. But I have never heard of such beings, so the likelihood, I suppose, was slim."

"Sorry to disappoint," I mentioned. "Nothing as exotic as a mix of races. Just an unfortunate encounter with an Undead alchemist."

"The true story is just as interesting," ensured Taellor. I found myself looking over his form again, noticing now how his dark veins along his hands gave him a more realistic edge. After a slightly uncomfortable pause, the other rogue nodded toward the setting sun we could view through the opening of a door. "Do you think this threat is real?"

"Yes." I knew that my quick and confident answer aroused curiosity in Taellor, but I didn't want to explain. "I know the Argent Dawn's working hard to fight the enemies of the Light, but the Scourge is getting smarter."

"You seem to know a lot about the Undead," observed Taellor as he looked me over. "For a rogue, at least."

"I've had some close calls with them," I answered. "How about you? Rogue working with the Argent Dawn?"

"I was orphaned at a young age, left to a Human paladin named Landon Redheart. He raised me as his son, even though I obviously wasn't going to be gifted with the Light. We moved up here while I was a preteen, and once I became of age, the local members of SI:7 insisted I work towards being a rogue." He paused to gather his story, and I found myself completely absorbed with the elf, with how the rumble in his voice told of his past. "Landon died last year, of natural causes, but he was an avid believer in this crusade. I will do right by his name."

"That's very noble of you, Taellor," I acknowledged, patting his leg due to maternal instinct. For all I knew, this Night Elf was decades older than me, although his face bore no signs of age. After I didn't speak for a while, the man looked over in concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh," I sputtered, shaking my head. "I'm sorry if I stare. I-" I sighed at my abnormality. "I don't get out much. To finally see a Night Elf up close, it's…exciting. You're very beautiful."

Taellor smirked, eyes closing in humbleness as if he constantly received such compliments. It definitely took an edge of the awkwardness. "The Argent Dawn is very diverse. It's one of our best aspects. Unity through diversity."

"I wish the rest of us could think that simply," I mused. "It's our only chance against the evils lurking in the shadows."

"Grace, you see things more clearly than most Humans do," commented Taellor with a slight chuckle of wonder.

I giggled myself, subconsciously scratching at the scar lurking on my collarbone underneath all of my armor. _You have no idea._

Dusk was closing in—if I didn't see the sun disappearing over the horizon, I could definitely see it in the silver of Taellor's eyes as it intensified in darkness. Most of us had taken our positions just outside the tower, seemingly calm even though I felt hundreds of auras shooting with impatience. Those of us with terrible advances in the dark—such as rogues or Night Elves that could shadowmeld—awaited as the first line of defense outside. Behind those was our lethal Light damage, paladins. Priests remained inside to monitor everyone's well-being, since they were highly susceptible to, well, any blow defter than a kick in the shins.

Druids and warriors awaited behind the paladins, ready to finish off the things that refused to fall. And finally, atop the second floor, was our couple of warlocks, another priest for supervision, and two hunters. The image made me smirk—one hunter was a Draenei, his bulky presence towering over the pair of Humans and taking up nearly half of the available space.

The darkness didn't hide the sensation of restlessness nestled within us, and even with the lack of daylight, normally a sure sign of hope, our soldiers were confident. We were throwing ourselves into their territory, and still we stood tall.

One of the druids in cat form rumbled a growl, claws scraping into the dirt below. I closed my eyes, stretching my senses outward until the darkness I knew too well etched at the edge of my consciousness. "They're on the move," I breathed, the information a hushed whisper on my lips, but it still reached across the field to every pair of ears listening. The screech of metal was my response as swords and maces were brought forth in earnest.

Cloaked in darkness, their masses looked even darker and easier to spot. I knew that as soon as I could spot them, Arthas would see our defenses.

_What?_

I gripped my daggers with extra strength, the knowledge of their substance the only thing keeping me from slipping into the enemy's consciousness. I couldn't lose consciousness here, in the middle of all this.

_They couldn't have known._

"He's mildly surprised," I commented, more to myself, but others seemed relieved at the information.

"Do we stand a chance?" asked Zen's voice. His eyes, I knew, could make out the gruesome body of Undead fumbling toward us, though he couldn't fathom any estimate on numbers.

I swooned, straining with the effort of moving in and out of two different consciousnesses. "They look underdeveloped, although the soldiers are armed and protected. As far as numbers," I paused, shrugging, "I can't tell."

_So the Alliance has a death wish. _One of Arthas' generals—he must have been a general, because he rode a horse—raised his sword, an animalistic cackle whipping through the nighttime and settling on my spine. _Who am I to disregard their request?_

"Ready yourselves," I stated, the acidity in the words surprising even me.

Their ranks concentrated on the two closest towers—ours in the south as well as the northern tower. As they neared, different kinds of Undead came into vision. Abominations, their disturbing appendages swinging mercilessly, shook the earth as they galloped onward. Oozes, consisting of partially digested body parts and other nameless materials, left trails of slick sludge behind them that bubbled and fizzed. Skeletons sporting helmets and shields hissed at the enemy they were told to wipe clean. Zombies, sporting the most human qualities and yet cursed with the Plague's stage of decomposition, dragged their ripped flesh toward us.

They charged as we remained intact, waiting. When our forces did collide, it was as if Hell itself had broken through the earth.

And that's the update! Please remember to review!


	12. Departed, Pt 2

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**Departed**

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**Book Six, Part Two**

The ripping of flesh was the immediate sound that met my ears as our rogues hit the first wave. Howls of pain and anger were drowned out by the clash of metals.

To my right, a blast of light destroyed one of the oozes, and I barely dodged the missiles of green slime that was the result. I cursed as some of the liquid landed on my shoulder armor, hissing at the contact as it disintegrated the leather.

"Casters destroy the oozes!" screamed Zen, who apparently realized what I had: these things were plague bombs waiting to explode.

Taellor was fighting to my left, Robert and Cole were to my right, and as I destroyed one of the skeletons with a good swipe I called for the two latter rogues. "Step away from the oozes," I warned. "They're plagued-"

One of our warriors screamed in pain, holding his face as his knees buckled below him and left the man in a puddle of green. A hissing sound caused me to turn away and face a new adversary.

Most of the oozes had been properly isolated from the towers, their messes forming a pool of Undeath that I hoped no one would step into, and we were handling the waves of soldiers rolling towards us. Consecrations lit up the ground, playing tricks with my eyes so adjusted to darkness, and ice bolts and arrows were flying by my face with hisses of vengeance.

Our numbers were decreasing, but so were theirs. We had a chance. I chanted it over and over. A chance. That's all we needed.

In the middle of the fight, some rogues and warriors began to advance, attempting to cut through the ranks. I growled. Zen's first warning: no fighting on the streets.

"Hold fast!" I screamed, minding a sword that nearly gave me a premature hair cut. "Hold _back_!"

Before I could stride to the stragglers myself and pull them closer to the tower, a heavy axe soared past my head, missing me as well as the Undead before me and landing at the feet of Taellor. I gaped, confused. That was _not _an axe of the Alliance, and it wasn't the weapon of choice of the Undead.

I cursed, turning toward our sharp left, and the image didn't startle me. Horde- and not only from the left, but the right as well, their numbers reaching around our back. The Tauren who had probably tossed the axe stood tall, his braided hair tussling in the soft wind. He had his own small army, of at least a few dozen, of Forsaken, Blood Elves, Trolls, Orcs—all races were represented.

Taellor and I weren't the only Alliance the new enemy grabbed the attention of. Everyone planted in the back—druids, paladins, our heavy damage—was now turned, startled and torn between two evils.

"_Horde_!" one of our own Dwarves shouted, suddenly enraged enough to charge our old enemy with his axe at the ready.

"No, _wait_!" I screamed, in two strides catching the warrior by the scruff and dragging him back a few steps. "Zen!" I called.

I got no reply—or at least, I heard none. A few Troll and Tauren hunters had bows ready, a Shaman was throwing down a few totems that I really didn't want to know the names of. Taellor was now fighting off a few Undead, keeping them off him as well as me as I looked around in a slight panic.

"Hold your attacks on the Horde!" I screamed. "Target the Scourge. Melee focus aim on the Scourge! I want the casters at the ready on the Horde."

The casters threw me unsure glances, but turned anyway. To my surprise, warriors and paladins were listening. Their focus remained ahead, flashes of light continuing to burn away the Scourge.

They weren't attacking yet. Perhaps they weren't here to fight us. I stood there for a moment, minding that the Undead were at my back and that the Horde was standing readily before me. The Tauren roared, his voice soaring over the rest of the battle, and his followers were charging, casters muttering enchanting spells.

"_Stop_!" I screamed, daggers sheathed and hands held out. It was useless—even if they did know my language, even if they were listening, we were enemies, and they were on a mission. "This isn't our fight!" One of their Forsaken rogues went straight for me, daggers swirling in the air. I barely had time to dodge his first few attempts, my feet back-peddling to try to pull away from combat.

What the Horde didn't fully expect was the attacks they gained from the Undead. The Scourge was sworn to kill anything living, and now they had more open targets. A Blood Elf paladin near me plotted a consecration; its light beneath me felt like it'd burn holes through my boots. I screamed, still determined to deter their advances.

"Grace, behind you!"

I turned, seeing Taellor in the background but more importantly spotting the pair of Scourge who now charged. They grew furious as they hit the consecration, howling as they focused on the paladin responsible for the move. As the skeletons stumbled past me, they reached their claws and weapons toward the Blood Elf.

One of my daggers caught one in the spine, even as the injured fiend shrieked and flipped to face me. His own dagger, hidden before while it streamed toward the paladin, now flew at me. My left arm rose intuitively to shield my face, and despite the leather guards I felt the knife cut down my arm.

My left dagger fell to the ground, landing in the swirl of Light still consecrating the dirt. The Blood Elf paused, slightly taken aback, as I cradled my bleeding arm. The Forsaken rogue slashed at the remaining Scourge, his own bones grinding with the movement. "They're your enemies, too," I growled.

"_Es'a dwor wogess_," hissed someone from behind me, their tongue beautiful but entirely foreign. Taellor stepped beside me, the Light fading beneath him as he helped me up. "_Zsat grebis soh arrtdi, ga grebis soh ebeiri."_

The two hesitated, then in the same hissing language called to their leader. The entire army of Horde seemed to pause, awaiting the reaction of their Tauren leader. Finally, his roar was once again ringing across the zone: "Rala. Uden soh Ullsethe!"

Nodding, the two Horde before me, who momentarily had a death sentence in mind for me, bowed stiffly and, brandishing their weapons, stalked past us to take on a new wave of Undead. Other members of the Horde were following the lead.

I didn't realize until then that my lungs hadn't moved, and now that I sucked in a heavy breath I felt light-headed. My own blood now painted both my left arm and right hand, brown in the darkness.

"You okay?" Taellor was again asking. I nodded.

"I'll manage. What did you say to them?"

"I told them the obvious. That they could either have double the friends or double the enemies. It was their choice."

"You saved my life."

Taellor chuckled as he readied his daggers once more. "Rogue's stick together, right?"

The remaining time of the fight, I was relentless. We had a clear advantage now, but that didn't deter my strength. I fought harder. Took three or four armed Undead at once, toying with them, spilling their blood. Once I beheaded a ghoul, watched as its body remained upright and attempted to walk, and then took pleasure in ripping every appendage off its body until all that remained was the blow to the heart. They had no feelings, but they surely felt pain. They would suffer in physical pain what I suffered because of Dennis' death. My father's death. My family had been torn apart, so now their bodies would have to do for revenge.

Once they knew it was hopeless, they tried to retreat, even as we kept attacking. One of the skeletons fleeing I managed to knock in what used to be its kidneys—it had the same effect. Its body keeled over, allowing me to dig my dagger through its tough ribcage and into its beating but Undead heart.

A few got away, their bodies running as fast as possible to escape the onslaught of arrows and ranged attacks. It left us breathless, tired, unwilling to call it the end in fear that it wasn't.

Once the Scourge became dots on the horizon, many broke into cheers—Horde and Alliance alike. I heard the roar of the Tauren leader once again, but I was no longer fearing the safety of my own Alliance.

They took their leave quietly. Both the Alliance and Horde were exhausted, too tired to pick any more fights, and I found myself hoping it was the start of something permanent. The Blood Elf paladin from earlier, before leaving, gently touched my arm. It sealed shut automatically, the Light acting as a sort of temporary bandage. I bowed my gratefulness. He smirked as he walked away.

There was work yet to be done. After I was bandaged, it was time for the mending of the surviving, the burial of the dead, and the purifying of the Undead. I helped Zen, who survived with little but a scratch, with the bites, unwilling to bury our deceased. The process went on well into dawn, and it was passed noon by the time we reached the chapel.

The other towers had fights similar to our own, without the help of any Horde, of course. Once we mentioned to this to Nicholas Zuerenhoff of the Argent Dawn, he seemed curious. "Helped, you say? As in, they didn't kill our soldiers?"

I nodded. "Thanks to Taellor here," I nudged the Night Elf who shrugged.

"My father taught me both common languages for a reason, I suppose."

"Are you sure your ranks don't want to stay a few days?" Zuerenhoff asked, motioning to the chapel. "We should be celebrating! Feasting!"

"We are content with knowing the Scourge didn't exterminate our people up here," Zen answered indirectly. "We cleaned in the lake on our way, and most of us have eaten the rations we brought. The sooner we return to Stormwind to report our victory, the better."

Zuerenhoff sighed, finally nodding in agreement. "I owe you so much," he muttered. "I simply hope another attack isn't looming on the horizon."

"If it is, we'll know," I assured, bowing.

"We thank you for your hospitality while we stayed," Zen mentioned, bowing himself. "And for your trust when we came to you with a silly claim."

"You're welcome here any time."

"Goodbye, Taellor," I said, holding my hand out to shake his own. His tall figure took me into a hug, my chin hitting his chest as his arms nearly smothered me.

"Don't be a stranger, Grace." I laughed, pulling away and nodding.

It definitely took longer to get home, our weary bodies going at a steady, unhurried pace. Everyone dear to me survived this fight: Zen, Brae, even Cole and Rob. But how long would that streak last?

There was only way to lessen the likelihood of losing others I kept close to me. To kill the Scourge before they could kill us. And that wouldn't be a problem for me.

"I'm going to the King," Zen announced as we reached the gates of Stormwind. I nodded. "You're coming?" he asked, and it took a moment to realize he was talking to me.

"Why?"

"He's going to want to thank you."

"I have no desire to see him. I'm tired."

Zen glared, obviously trying to pinpoint where the new rush of anger was coming from now, but dropped it for now.

I went straight to Zen's place. I ignored the taverns as they roared in celebration and the streets as they screamed with fireworks once more. Instead, I re-bandaged my wound, unconcerned because of the Blood Elf's small favor, and changed out of my bloodied armor.

When Zen arrived quite a bit later, I was already in my nightgown upstairs (I was surely exhausted, but the sunlight altered my ability to sleep), polishing my daggers. He leaned against the wall, aura already heating up although neither of us said a word.

"The King was impressed."

I sniffed loudly, dagger thrust outward with an extra force that caused the leather to bend at my will. "Impressed. Mhm."

"Grace, _what _the hell is going on with you?"

"I'm just polishing my weapons, Zen. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Who are you?" he questioned, nearly growling now that I added the spice of sarcasm to our conversation.

"What?"

"What's happened to you?" Zen asked; he still hadn't discarded any of his gear. "You've become this…thing…incapable of anything but destruction."

"I thought you wanted me to be fearless," I growled, turning my attention away from Zen and moving to continue my routine with the blades. A warm hand gripped my wrist, halting my progress.

"There's a difference between fearless and _reckless_," Zen chided angrily. "You've been callous on and off the battlefield, and it's getting more unsettling by the moment. I'm worried about you."

"Don't be; it's against your nature," I scoffed. "Stop being hypocritical. You're the master of ignoring your emotions."

Zen leaned in closer, forcing me to look into his bright eyes that now burned with incredulity. "Hypocritical is preaching about the power and strength of love and emotions, and then turning your back on them."

"I have priorities," I growled. "I'm going to destroy every one of them."

"You're destroying yourself in the process."

I held my breath, attempting to ignore the worry edging his aura and the fact that Zen was right. The recklessness would kill me eventually, and if it wasn't recklessness it'd be something else within this war. "I know that," I whispered. Zen dropped his hold on my arm, gaze never faltering.

If I wasn't fighting those few days, I was training my mind to better grasp the glimpses of Arthas. More than once I had reached out to him on my own accord, catching brief moments of his consciousness. Nothing helpful had risen thus far—but I was mostly excited about the progress of my own consciousness. With practice, I was able to remain within my own body while still keeping an eye on the other side. It was a funny feeling, really, and it drained a lot of my physical and mental strength, but it was improving. My vision was like a split projector, showing my own surroundings as well as Arthas' surroundings and thoughts.

Zen monitored me very closely whenever he knew I was reaching outward like that. After another one of our arguments, I had trampled to my room and tried to connect to Arthas once again. Apparently I had passed out from effort, because when I opened my eyes I was laying in Zen's arms, his worried eyes glazed with disapproval. Groaning, I pulled myself out of Zen's lap and instead gazed into his green eyes.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Normally I don't pass out."

"I meant reaching the Scourge realm without my supervision," Zen muttered as he stood gracefully. I followed him onto my own feet.

"That's the point of my practice," I explained. "It's improving so that I don't _need _to be babysat."

Zen's aura flared the slightest, the warmth grazing my cheek as he clenched his fists. I knew I was only worsening the distance between us, and I knew I had feelings for Zen because it still pained me to keep him away. But he didn't understand that the burdens were my own to bear.

"I'm reaching out to you!" Zen seethed, though his voice was low and strangled. "Why can't you see that?"

Wincing, I turned away, looking instead at the stairs. My admiration of Zen certainly hadn't waned, that was for sure. Before I could explain myself to Zen, however, a veil of blue was settling before me, alerting me that I was again crossing over to Arthas' realm.

I clutched the banister with my right hand as the vision whooshed around me, glimpses of blues and purples streaking. This was definitely a foreign experience, and it caused a vertigo within me that caused me to sway. Zen's arms, however, braced me from behind.

And then I was truly stumped, because the vision that was supposed to belong to Arthas was more familiar on my own side, with Brae and Officer Jared gazing at me.

_Quite the turn of events, indeed, _rumbled my voice. It still belonged to Arthas, so how was I seeing such familiar faces?

My own body stumbled backwards, an attempt on my part to zoom out of the picture in hopes to understand. Zen caught me, crooning from behind me to look into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked carefully.

Brae was looking at me in wonder, eyes sparkling as he nudged Jared. I concentrated on the room within: cabinets, nursing beds, bright walls…

SI:7's infirmary?

_You belong to the Scourge now, _Arthas announced confidently. _I have offered you a chance at a second life, and all I ask for is your assistance…_

_He's awake! _Brae exclaimed, attempting to turn and proclaim the news to anyone who would listen. _It's a miracle! I thought he was a goner for certain…_

_Stand, warrior. Let them believe you are alive and well. You shall be my eyes in this repulsive city. I need answers._

"No," I stated, gasping. My right hand remained on the banister, but my left rose to clutch Zen's sleeve. "SI:7." I took a step towards the stairs—I hadn't really tried to move during my visions, and now, as I staggered down the first couple of steps, I realized it was much more difficult to remain stable within both realms.

"Grace! You can't really be...?"

I clenched my eyes shut, the action momentarily keeping my visions of Arthas at bay. With a lack of grace capable only of me, I stumbled down the staircase, stopping at the doorway to gather my locality.

_How are you feeling? _echoed Brae's voice. I growled, stalking out of the house and through the streets. The sun's rays weren't helping my diluted state—sunlight glared into my eyes uncomfortably.

_This is amazing._

_Let them admire my work. Let them see that the Lich King still has insurmountable powers they must reckon with. They may have matched my power once, but now…_

"Leave them alone," I growled loudly, still forcing my body towards SI:7. Zen's hand had grabbed my left forearm, an attempt at keeping me stable. He was baffled, still questioning me, but unable to decide whether or not to hold me back. Neither of us really wanted to cause a scene in the middle of Stormwind, with normal villagers wandering the streets.

I was determined. The Scourge would not infiltrate the city. Not like this, not now.

_I'm good_, the voice of his puppet answered hollowly. Snarling, I kept up my pace, the infirmary's surroundings occasionally seeping into my vision.

Once I did manage to stumble into SI:7's main entrance, I didn't hesitate in heading for Brae and his room. "_Brae_!" I screamed.

The sensation was almost overwhelming. I heard myself in both havens of consciousness; saw the man in question turn towards the door my body was now crawling toward. Officer Jared was now in front of the door, a questioning gaze turned to me. "Grace?"

Teeth grinding, I dragged my feet through the doorway, into the same room Brae was in. My senses whirled, skewed as my perceptions overlapped. I glared at the being who was now under control, not surprised that it was the bitten rogue that Brae had been trying to help for weeks. The rogue physician in question turned toward me, although all I could concentrate on was the void within his patient's eyes.

What scared me most was that I could see myself through his eyes. I looked so pale, so fragile as I steadied myself within the room. The purple tints in my eyes seemed much more prominent now as I gulped, breath coming in forced huffs.

"He's not one of us," I told Brae in a snarl. "He's Undead."

"What?" asked Brae. "I used the potions, Grace. He's fully recovered."

I shook my head. "No, he's not. We have to get rid of him. He's a spy, Brae."

"How can you say that, Grace?" asked Brae, his voice unsettled between hurt and confusion.

"He was too far gone when you treated him," I answered, taking a difficult step closer to the puppet. It seemed un-phased as it gazed right back into my own eyes. "The Scourge is behind him, Brae. He has to be rid of. You have to trust me."

_How…is that possible? _asked Arthas, his voice drumming through my head. _How does she know?_

"How do I know?" I growled, knowing that for once I was aware of something Arthas was not.

"You've seen through him, haven't you?" Zen asked in a whisper. "You can hear Arthas…"

"I see everything the puppet can," I added, not talking to anyone around me, but to Arthas. "I can hear every command the _Lich King _makes to this thing. Brae, we're all in danger if we don't act now."

_Impossible! _

roared the Lich King, his anger causing our bond to strengthen. I winced visibly, head pounding.

"This is your own doing," I growled at him.

Brae stood, torn as to what to do. Zen and Jared both approached him, their confidence in me causing Brae to bite his lip. "You know she's telling the truth," murmured Zen.

I swallowed again, barely able to hold on to myself. "Don't you remember me, Arthas?" I asked, smirking. "Clad's plan backfired then, your plan backfired in the Plaguelands, and this one will fail as well."

_You will pay dearly for your actions, _Arthas roared. _You will feel the power of the Lich King. I will find you._

My mentality slipped a bit, body swaying from the overwhelming forces. "Kill it," I seethed through clenched teeth. "Kill it or I will."

"Brae." Zen stepped toward his friend, asking him for approval with only the mention of his name. He nodded, finally convinced that his subject had actually turned, and took a full step backward behind me.

Before Zen could even reach for his weapons, mine were already unsheathed as I stalked toward the monster. Its gaze was still dark and disturbing as I slashed both of my daggers through his chest. Zen may have uttered my name, but I was already driving the blade in my right hand through the chest, head turned to avoid seeing the image in two different perspectives. A cough was its only humanly response before the body collapsed onto the floor, the dark blood transferring to my gear I still hadn't taken off.

_I will find you._

Furious with the voice that wouldn't wane, my dagger rose to deliver another blow to the already slumped over body, but Zen and Brae had both gotten a hold of my arms. "It's over, Grace, leave it alone," Zen rumbled into my ear.

"It's not over," I cried, finally relaxing in Zen's grasp. "It's just begun."

The rest of the day was spent in SI:7, even though I had every desire to simply take everything I had and flee the city. No one would listen to me, especially Zen, when I argued that it was safer that I leave.

"The Lich King is coming for me," I repeated over and over. "He'll come here, whether through me or otherwise. I can't put anyone else in danger."

The officers would have none of it. "Stormwind is safe," Brae droned. "You're safer within these walls, where there's a multitude of us, than alone out there."

"It's not _my_ safety I'm worried about," I uttered, pounding my fist on the table. The water the men attempted to give me rattled on the surface. "He's going to start trying to reach my mind. He'll know that if I can see him on command, he has a chance at doing the same. And _if _he does manage to break the barrier, then no one around me is safe."

"You're panicking," Zen assured. "C'mon. You need some rest."

Shaking, I had no energy to object. I was completely drained, and even with the conviction that the Lich King was surely after me, I knew Zen would watch over me.

The next day wasn't any better. Or the next after that, for that matter. I was very careful around my friends in SI:7—careful to the point of skittishness. Constantly looking over my shoulder, trying to see the Lich King's thoughts, and torn between keeping an eye on SI:7 and keeping my distance in fear of their safety left me no time to consider my _own _safety.

Jared wouldn't let me outside of Stormwind. It was a stifling feeling, knowing I wasn't able to help—but at least this way I could warn Stormwind should any more attacks arise in Arthas' plans.

Those two days passed with difficulty. I was still awaiting the supposed reassignment Zen said I would get. It didn't seem like the transfer was looming the horizon any time soon, since I had a usefulness they wanted to keep close to those in command, and since I was most likely in danger anyway and needed protection.

I felt like a secret weapon that needed safeguarding. Wouldn't want the enemy to get a hold of a prize like that.

It was dusk when an unusual knock broke the silence between Zen and I. Hardly anyone ever came to Zen's house, and when they _did _arrive, it usually meant Zen had another one of his officer duties.

At that point, my relationship with Zen still hadn't been defined, and I was okay with that. The more I tried to push away any thought of him away, though, the more difficult it became to do so. I was waiting for the moment he would give up, quit reaching out to me—but his aura never retreated and his eyes never dulled out of their brilliance.

I didn't want him around. It pained me to see him so frustrated with something _I _was doing to him—but I didn't want him leaving either, because that hurt, too. So I wasn't excited at all when the knock came unexpectedly. Suddenly, I was even angrier than usual: how about I simply let _everything_ walk out on me all at once, and call it a day?

Of course it was a selfish thought, and of course I was being hypocritical. I wanted to be distanced from Zen, but I didn't want to stay away; it was my fault for pulling us apart, but it was fate that triggered it; I was a female, but I was a rogue.

Sighing, Zen fiddled with his collar as he broke his leaning posture against the counter and paced toward the door. I growled, grumbling from the dining room table, until Zen threw an expected glance my way. "I'm sure it's nothing out of the ordinary."

"That's what I'm worried about," I muttered, glaring daggers at the door. If I had any choice, they'd be poisoned daggers, too.

Once Zen's hand touched the doorknob, I grumbled nonsense words, crossing my arms but unwilling to move from my seat. I couldn't see who our visitor as once the door was pulled open, but I did hear a very unfamiliar, feminine voice as it hurriedly explained something of importance to Zen. He nodded, his hand hesitating before Zen pulled the door open to reveal the woman at the door.

I didn't recognize her, but now both the woman and Zen looked at me expectedly. "She needs to speak to you," Without a word I stood, stalking to the door. The woman wasn't old, though lines of worry creased her face, and her gear hinted that she was a warrior within Stormwind. Instantly I was scared, knowing that any warrior besides Lucas seeking me out would only bring terrible news.

Zen stepped back, though he lingered in the kitchen. His aura was cooled with worry as well, and I knew without looking at him that he and I were thinking of the same explanation for the female's appearance.

"Your name is Grace Fulstorm?" The blonde asked, her bangs clinging to the seat on her forehead. Her cheeks glistened, but I refused to decide whether the sheen was from tears or perspiration. I nodded, my right hand clutching the doorframe for some much-needed support. The woman bit her lip. "My name is Aurelia. I knew your brother, Lucas."

I groaned, my temple thumping against the frame. My heart had hit the floor. I knew this was coming the moment I saw her on the doorstep, but I wasn't ready for this news. I couldn't possibly prepare myself…

"He told me…if anything was to happen to him…to come to you personally." I choked on the brittleness of her voice, forcing my body to remain anchored to that door. My knees were shaking; Zen moved a few steps closer to me.

"What happened to my brother?" I demanded in a croak. "Where was he?"

"Northrend." Aurelia looked down, composing herself. "Helping with a few small Scourge attacks. They got him during one of the routine fights…"

Tears fought their way down my cheeks, burning through the ice welling inside me. How could this happen to me. To _him_.

"They killed my brother," I hissed, my own acknowledgement making my body shake two-fold.

"We don't know that for certain," she insisted. "He was a high-ranked officer. He wasn't the only officer that disappeared."

This new piece of information didn't comfort me as she might have thought it would. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"He was taken away. Nobody saw them die."

I laughed at the concept. "The Scourge does not take prisoners. You expect me to believe they found my brother and merely carried him away?"

"I refuse to accept that Lucas may be dead," Aurelia stated, her thin voice firm. "If there's a slim chance of his survival—slim—I'll keep hoping for him. You should, too. Lucas deserves at least that."

I paused, letting another tear carve a path down my cheek and around my jaw. "Northrend, you said?"

"Yes. It's where the Lich King is based."

Shaking my head, I pounded my knuckles into the wall. "It doesn't add up."

"Which is why there's still hope," insisted the blonde. "I must go. If anything else comes up, I'll notify you immediately."

_What else could possibly come up? _I wanted to seethe. A ransom note? An apology letter?

With a small smile of encouragement and a whisper of "I'm sorry" she was gone. For a few moments I remained there, the doorway wide open as my emotions whirled around me. And as I struggled between logic and emotion, in regards to which side believed what, the townsfolk in the streets continued with the humdrum of their typical lives.

_It just wasn't _fair.

My hand forced the door shut, the wood landing in place with a bang that could startle a deaf person, and effectively blocked everything outside from my vision. The closest thing to me was still the door—in my rage I punched and kicked at it, not minding that my knuckles would bruise or the cut on my arm would split open.

So easy behind this door. A sting shot through my left arm, forcing me to stop my pummeling. I collapsed, sputtering with sobs of anger and sadness.

Zen's hands rested on my shoulders, the warmth causing a shudder to run down my back. "They're going to do their best to find your brother."

"How can you say that?" I seethed through my tears. "That's not true, Zen, and you know it." My forehead touched the rough surface of the door as I cradled my left arm. "The King of Stormwind didn't even want to send help to the people in the Plaguelands. You know none of the superiors in Northrend are going to try to help Lucas or the others. To them, those taken are as good as dead."

"It's going to be okay…"

"Even if they did want to find Lucas, even if they believed he survived…they don't know the Lich King. They don't have any leads whatsoever."

It was as if I had made the decision before I had even considered my options. Still shaking, I pulled myself off the floor, Zen's hands dropping from their perch on my shoulders. I knew the Lich King better than most, maybe better than anyone over there. I had all the leads needed to find my brother, and if I didn't, I could find them. "I need to find Lucas," I muttered, gripping the knob of the door and pulling. Before Zen could ask, I gave him his answer: "I'm going to ask for a transfer to Northrend."

I stepped outside, into the sunlight and the oblivious cheery faces of Stormwind. The cut on my arm felt warm, and when I used the cuff of my long sleeve to wipe away my tears, I realized the color red was bleeding through the white linen.

"Grace, you're being hasty…"

Zen was following again, aura hazed with worry. My reckless attitude once again kept him at bay from reaching me.

Jared was responsible for SI:7's initiation of rogues, as well as their placement. He also referred possible promotions to Rillhelm, acting as his sort of right hand man. It was a wonder that he, himself, wasn't higher on the ladder.

"Officer Jared," I breathed as I reached his office. His mouth opened, whether to greet or question Zen and me, but I didn't let him speak. "I have to be transferred to SI: 7's base in Northrend. Tonight."

"Whoa, Grace," he leaned in, a hand reaching out to invite me to take a seat. "Slow down. Where did this come from?"

"I can be a bigger help closer to the Lich King," I said quickly. "I need the transfer."

"I tried to talk some sense into her," Zen informed his comrade as he folded his arms. "She wouldn't listen."

"You look terrible," Jared acknowledged. "Try to cool off, Grace. Sit. Let's talk about this."

"Her brother was in Northrend when he was kidnapped by the Scourge," Zen explained as I suppressed a growl of annoyance.

Jared exhaled, biding time as his lips pulled into a grimace. "I see. Grace, I can't simply send you to Northrend."

"Why _not_?" I demanded.

"It's a long process, and the SI:7 members currently stationed up there are functioning fine. It would draw unnecessary attention. I don't think this would be a healthy move for you, either."

"I'm not worried about me," I growled.

"But we are. Wait this out, Grace. If the sector of SI:7 in Northrend sends for help, you'll be the first I fill out the release of."

"That's not good enough. My brother will be dead by then."

"I'm sorry, that's all I can do."

"I'm going to Northrend, with or without SI:7's authorization," I announced in a low whisper.

Zen's aura froze, felt detached for a moment, and Jared winced. Neither was angry, but both now knew that they were walking on thin ice.

"If you leave without our consent, you're considered AWOL, and you'll be handled accordingly," Jared droned with cautiousness.

"I'll take my chances." All I could hear was my delayed breathing for a moment. "I need to go, Jared. Please."

"There's nothing more I can do, Grace. I'm sorry." He looked down, voice hallow.

I left briskly, too angry to speak to anyone. Every moment wasted here was another moment less my brother had. The decision was made. I wasn't going to simply sit here.

"Grace," Zen was pleading now as I stepped inside his house. He knew me too well, knew what I was aiming for. "Grace, please just listen for a moment."

I didn't say anything in reply. My mind was already jumping to the clothing I'd bring, and how much I would have to buy. I had some money left from some of the missions…

"You're making a mistake," blurted Zen. His swiftness, despite my accelerated learning, had always been beyond my own. Before my right foot was securely on the first step leading to my room, his hand had trapped my wrist in a desperate grip.

I closed my eyes tightly, holding my breath in an attempt at keeping Zen's aura out of my senses. It was frazzled with indignation, but defeat was already clawing at the edges. "You can't stop me," I declared in a low voice. The sentence was choppy and brittle, but it was enough to eat away at Zen's determination.

"You may believe you have some Human rights here," Zen insisted, "but you also have a dedication to this sector, Grace. And I do as well."

"I'm not asking you to overlook my disobedience. This is my choice and my problem alone."

"As your superior I have a duty to report your defiance."

I said nothing. With three more steps Zen's hand was torn from my own, and I was on my way upstairs without a persistent rogue behind me. My first impulse wasn't to pack. Haggardly I slumped onto my bed, attempting to breathe deeply. Still, my heart couldn't keep up with the change of events. With every beat of my heart, Lucas was in more danger. He could have already been killed…

No. Shooting up from my bed, I hurriedly packed for my trip north. My leather knapsack had been discarded on top of my chest piece—now it was in my hands, and I was tossing important items in it with a speed I didn't realize was Human.

I remembered to toss in my bag of gold coins. My daggers were now at my sides, and I remembered bitter sweetly that they had been a gift from my teacher. From my friend. From my…

It would be cold, I mused. I added as many layers as I could possibly fit onto my body, including two cloaks and gloves trimmed with lynx fur.

When I stealthed downstairs, I noted with relief that Zen had retreated to his room, black curtain pulled shut. He had, recently, left the curtain open at night, as if conveying that our relationship was now more comfortable. Now it was drawn closed, a symbol of the barrier now shoved between Zen and me. It was quiet, and with a bit of a reach towards Zen's aura I realized the rogue was sound asleep.

He didn't deserve an apprentice like this. Hurriedly I retrieved a sample of parchment and quill, and scrawled three words across the paper that could never convey how I actually felt:

_I'm so sorry._

I folded it and pitched it onto the dinner table, and then I also unpinned my SI:7 insignia and tossed it in the same direction. It clinked on contact, the piece of metal tumbling and settling atop the parchment and becoming nothing more than a meaningless paperweight.

And then I was gone. By then it was well into nightfall. The nocturnal insects were chirping their lullabies, and an echo of hearty laughter danced down the street.

It took three tries to find a ship that was both heading toward Northrend that night and was okay with having a female tag along for the journey. A slightly grumpy dwarf, whom I was sure would deny my offer, actually accepted my company after I threw in a dozen pieces of gold in exchange. We departed before the sun made its return from below the horizon. Stormwind's familiar architecture was behind me, getting farther and farther by the moment. But the people and experiences I had tried to leave behind seemed to reach out, seeping through Stormwind's walls. Stormwind disappeared behind us, but the troubles and qualms lurked, their essence soaring atop the waves behind us and catching a ride on my shoulders.

**

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Soooo that's it for meow. Hope you enjoyed =]


	13. Northrend

I'm back! To put this in hind-sight I wanted to let you know...I have more written. I just don't want to catch up to myself =P  
Let's just say this chapter starts at page 197 in my word document. And there's 363 pages totally written so far. And I'm not quite done yet. haha. So no worries about me continuing to update!

Enjoy! R+R!

PS...Also, if you have any suggests...I'm definitely considering a sequel. But as far as a plot and cataclysm come, it's up in the air for the most part. Any suggestions, lemme know. =]

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**Northrend**

**Book Seven, Part One**

The next two weeks on the ship could probably be defined, in the simplest sense, to torture. It wasn't a good kind of torture—not that such torture existed, but presuming there was a more favorable, lesser-of-two-evils torture that one would pick in a serious dilemma.

A good torture (humor me here) was substantial pain. A hurt you could pinpoint to a body part, an injury. Maybe even a certain cause of said physical torture. This physical torture wasn't favorable, of course, when the other option was no torture at all.

Those two weeks, in my opinion, were a form of bad torture. It was a turmoil rooted inside me. It wasn't a bite or a cut. It couldn't be diagnosed. Nobody inflicted me with the torture except myself. My brain was functioning as executioner.

I was left to myself, my thoughts. Recollections. Guilt trips. Two weeks.

The merchant Dwarf, who I eventually learned was named Alzar, let me help around the ship in exchange for a share of his small crew's rations. Besides his small orders and requests, though, nobody made a real effort to talk to me.

Once on the ship did I attempt to make contact with the Lich King. Once because I was afraid my connection to him would begin to work two ways, if the Lich King was determined enough to try to reach me. I had no intention of turning into his puppet no matter how unlikely the odds—so I decided that my crossovers would have to be carefully monitored.

It wasn't difficult to reach his side, which scared me the most. The crossover was a different feel this time. I heard his voice, his thoughts, as clear as if he was leaning over me and speaking into my ear.

He was chatting nonchalantly with an officer about recruits. The lack of intensity infuriated me, and it was horribly strong as it rang through my mind. I forced myself to remember the reason I crossed over—dangerous but necessary.

_If you want me, come find me, _I thought. I concentrated so hard on the words that I felt my own consciousness slip further into the Lich King's. _If you want me, come find me._

I could almost feel the Lich King stop breathing as he listened intently. His eyes remained steady, body tense in the same position. No fear, only awareness. With a small hesitation, I thought again: _If you want me, come find me._

_The human girl has returned._ I was fairly certain he had thought it—his servant near him didn't react to the change of subject. _My promise remains, wench,_ he stated. _You will be dead or Undead. Your time spent living is dwindling._

_I'll be looking forward to it._

I felt myself drifting away, and for a split moment I actually believed I could possibly lose myself in his consciousness. The notion must have been enough to pull me out of the stupor: somehow I managed to slip away from the conversation and back into my reality. Once I opened my eyes, I felt the consequences of my actions.

Let's just say the nausea wasn't due to seasickness, as Alzar suspected. The next few hours I spend clinging to the side of the boat, stomach churning at the unsteady image of the water, but I was too afraid to move away. I wasn't going to mop up a mess on deck should my stomach flip over again.

Alzar shook his head in pity of my sea nausea, but I knew better—the bond was growing stronger, more intense to the point that I may have been pushing the envelope too far.

I refused to reconnect with Arthas again on the ship. A fear had started to climb up my spine, whispering of inevitable consequences to come.

The cold settled in about halfway through the journey, and only when the glaciers began to form in the waters did the remaining surrounding begin to shift. There was a fog that refused to leave the crew alone. It never waned after its first appearance—it was a heavy, thick, sad film that blanketed the ship—it didn't help rid of my saturnine mood.

"Only a few moments now," announced Alzar, his hands clasped behind his back. "After this field of glaciers, we'll settle into dock."

I nodded, attempting to stand and observe as well. I exhaled in surprise, my breath leaving in a puff of gray as glaciers twice as tall as the ship's masts acted as giants in the waters. They stood as tall, icy adversaries, and as our ship crawled through the mess of icebergs, I wondered how our ship was still floating—it was a helpless ant at the mercy of careless bystanders.

The thick fog that had followed us began to lift. I rubbed my hands together, my leather gloves not very good conductors of insulation—and I knew the cold would only get worse.

When people arrive at Borean Tundra by ship, the first image that sets into focus is the lighthouses that litter the small shoreline like fireflies at dusk. At least a half-dozen beacons of light are planted there, acting as guides for any sailor, whether lost, curious, or doomed. What the lighthouses don't inform guests is that what lies behind the welcoming shores is a land that is surely the best substitute for hell.

Upon reaching dock I could sense it, and once I stepped further into the land, the Undeath permeating Northrend invaded all my senses. It wasn't just the dark auras of the Lich army I sensed—it felt strangulated with impending chaos here, like everyone alive was simply waiting for the darkness to capture them.

There was construction being done further down the walk, I noted, so I turned around and moved back towards the docks. My knowledge of Northrend was minimal. I knew the following thus far: 1.) I was in Northrend. The Borean Tundra, to be exact. 2.) Somewhere on the continent, the Lich King was based and plotting the demise of the living. 3.) Somewhere on the continent were people hell-bend on halting the plot before it would destroy us, and- 4.) It was cold. Very cold.

Number four was nipping at my ears, so I hustled into an inn. Somebody around here had to know the answers to the questions I had.

The inn was well-stocked except for in the customer aspect—a keeper stood behind a counter in the far corner, and I immediately felt his eyes land on me even as he polished a beer mug with an aging rag. A few officers scattered at tables and along walls, but not many looked pleasant.

The heat within the inn caused my face to burn as I tossed off my hood and stepped further inside. Deciding the innkeeper was the safest bet to lower suspicion, I approached the counter. "Hello," I began, attempting to smile. My lips were cracked and dry, and it hurt to move them. "My name is Grace. I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Sure, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I," I sighed, attempting to find the suitable route to explain myself. "I've come in search of my brother in Northrend. I don't know much of his whereabouts, but he was on the forefront against the Scourge." At the mention of our Undead enemy, the man grimaced. "Do you know where the fight against the Scourge is strongest?" I pressed.

The man set down his mug softly. "I don't know much about the matters, miss. What's a young lady such as you doing, pursuing the front lines of battles?"

"It's terribly important," I assured, momentarily regretting that I'd left my SI:7 identification back home. "I need to find whoever's leading the forefront attack."

"That'd be the Argent Dawn," replied a thin voice from behind me. The keeper's aura flared in agitation as I turned. Sitting at a table was an elderly man, his graying hair painting his scalp and chin. He leaned back in his chair as the cup of ale trembled in his grip.

"The Argent Dawn?" I asked, relieved that someone would give me some information. "Here in Northrend?"

"Of course _here_," the man grumbled, setting his glass down loudly and pulling himself up onto his feet. With a slight hobble he shuffled up to me, eyes bugging with craze. "A force of Undead is sweeping across the northern continent," he waved his waved for effect, "and it surprises you that the Argent Dawn wants to get in on the fun?"

"Oh, Colburn, stay out of this," growled the man behind the counter.

"No, tell me," I pleaded, turning fully toward the annoying elderly human. "Are they here? In the tundra?"

"Ha!" jested the man, his crooked finger wagging at me in mockery. "They'd be wasting their time in this hell-hole. Everyone here is too absorbed in building. Building buildings, building armies, building bigger buildings for the building of armies…"

"If you don't like it, then get out," snipped the other man. My eyebrows arched as the tension rose between the two grown men.

"They call themselves the Valiance Expedition here, but trust me," he sniffed loudly, causing me to grimace, "there's nothing valiant about it."

"You've had one too man, old man," growled the tavern keeper. "The Valiance Expedition is just as honorable as the crusade—_and _they've started establishing an array of recruits. Soon they'll be a force the Scourge will reckon with." It sounded as if he was trying to convince me more than the haggard drunk beside me.

"I need to find the Argent Dawn," I announced to both men, trying to ignore the fact that they were now glaring daggers at each other.

"The largest numbers are based in the Icecrown."

"Icecrown?"

The man known as Colburn sighed obnoxiously. "Where the Lich King has the forces strongest as well," explained the gray-haired man. "Farther up north."

"Icecrown. North. Got it." I nodded my thanks to both men, though the tavern keeper seemed miffed, and turned to start my journey north.

"You don't really plan on going there, do you?" asked the younger man. He now leaned into his counter in concern.

"Yes, actually, I do."

"Ha!" The old man cackled as he staggered back to his table to finish his drink. "Obviously a newcomer. There's many things you've overlooked, little one."

"I can handle myself," I argued, pursing my lips at the name-calling.

"I see. No friends. No weathered horse. No warm clothing. You'll be an ice-cube before you reach the border," announced Colburn, chin elevating to accentuate his confidence.

I stifled a laugh. "No friends," I put my hand on the door handle, turning the slightest to bow in goodbye. "I don't want friends."

Before they could interject again I continued outside, the cold air again welcoming me.

Like I wasn't aware that I needed a few things before my departure. Clothing, maybe. A horse, most likely. Friends, no.

Friends got in the way. I could barely cover my own behind. Any friend now would be put in grave danger.

The stables master was the easiest to find, and since I'd need a horse anyway, it was my first concern.

It was another Dwarf—female, I noticed after I was close enough that she'd acknowledge me. Her oversized hat had been hiding her features until she finally looked up to greet me. "Good afternoon!" she chided cheerfully. "My name's Celidh! What can I do for you?"

"Hello," after a pause, I smiled, "my name's Grace. I'm actually looking to purchase a horse, if that's okay."

"Of course, friend. Anything specific in mind?" the petite woman asked. "Farm work? Breeding?"

"Uh…riding?" I answered, trying my best not to sound stupid.

"For riding?" She sighed, her eyes momentarily drifting to the small stables. "I'm terribly sorry, but most of my good steeds I've sold to the Expedition."

"I don't need anything special," I insisted. "I'm heading North. Anything that can get me there will do."

"Well…" She bit her lip in thought as we paced through the stalls—very few housed a horse. "The most durable, broken-in horse I have available is…female."

My eyebrow rose in interest. "So?"

She nodded assertively once she realized I had been honest about my demands. "Right! I'll show her to you then!"

I frowned. "You don't sound convinced."

"Well…Whiplash is a bit…temperamental."

Shaking my head, I followed the woman through the stalls to the back. _Whiplash. How quaint. Maybe she's temperamental because someone gave her an awful name._

In the last stall was the mare. At first she seemed perfectly normal, almost too calm as her eye followed the Dwarf and me. Celidh grabbed a stool and stood on it as we both looked the horse over.

She was a pretty white color, making her seem almost out of a fairy tale. Her snow white hair, however, was broken by shadows of black—some painted her nose, and it also ran down her neck and through her entire mane. Perhaps it was the white that broke up the black, I mused, since her darker sections were just so pronounced.

"She's beautiful," I said—it came out as an affectionate coo, which startled me. Maybe I had been away from friends and family too long.

"Don't let her fool you just yet," warned Celidh. Slowly I reached up to touch one of Whiplash's twitching ears that looked like the tips were dipped in oil. She flinched and then neighed loudly as she attempted to buck in her pen. The wooden frames shuddered, but I didn't move my hand.

"But she's broken in?" I asked curiously.

"Yes," the Dwarf piped. "Every once in a while she'll let someone on without a problem. She likes to run. You don't want to know how many times she's managed to kick off the rider and run off. I've had parties try to wrangle her back in, but she only returns when she's ready."

Cringing, I nodded. I'd have to make it work. "I suppose she'll do." I swore she huffed indignantly. "How much?"

"Normally I charge hundreds, considering gear and quality, but since I pity your purchase," I winced, "I'd say 150." My hands fished within my satchel, and after finding my money sack, I handed her the necessary amount of gold. "Okay then," Celidh announced as she clasped her hands and hopped off her stool. "Her gear is along the wall. Go ahead and equip everything you need, and you're free to go!"

"Thanks."

The lips of the Dwarf pursed into what I assumed to be a frown—her huge hat was once again covering a good portion of her face. "Do you need help with her reigns or anything? She can be a handful."

For a moment my mind flashed to images of a Dwarf standing behind the horse's powerful hind legs as they bucked mercilessly, a big hat flying off the Dwarf's head and fluttering one direction as the body was punted another, arms and legs flapping like a dolls as she caught air time.

"I'll manage," I answered, realizing my face had contorted with horrible possibilities. "Thanks so much."

"Good luck!"

I'd need it, I decided after grabbing the reigns off their designated hook on the wall. I tried getting the bit nicely into her mouth, tried easing it in while I cooed her name, but Whiplash would have none of it. She twisted her face out of the way, flicked her mane arrogantly when I had a failed attempt. It was like spoon feeding a toddler ogre human food. But even toddler ogres were pliable.

"I think I know what's wrong," I announced, talking to the horse. "You think no one understands. Are you underestimated, too?" I asked rhetorically.

After a couple more forceful tries, the bridle was on. Grimacing, I grabbed the heavy saddle and set it on her wooden gate.

The saddle itself was usually easy to buckle onto a horse—my times in SI:7, I geared a few horses every now and then when missions were so late we had to wake up the steeds ourselves. So saddles were the easy steps when dealing with average horses.

This horse, obviously, wasn't quite average.

"Here's what we're going to do," I began, my hand resting on the lock on Whiplash's stall. "I'm going to bring you out of your pen, and you'll stand right here so I can put on your saddle. And we're going to do that without any difficulties. Got it?"

Whiplash neighed gruffly, though she gave no sign she agreed. Of course she couldn't agree—she was a horse.

With a meager hold on her reigns I clipped open the door, waiting for the horse to simply take off and drag me along with her. To my relief, she didn't. Whiplash stood patiently in place.

Eyes glaring, I carefully approached her right side and sat the saddle and its padding behind her as I stooped to buckle the saddle on.

Suddenly the mare shuffled left, shaking her mane obnoxiously as she released a ninny.

I withheld a growl as her saddle slipped off her back, the hard leather flopping loudly to the ground. "I don't have time for this!" I explained, sighing when Whiplash stood there as if she didn't just cause her own personal kind of havoc.

I grabbed the saddle once again, heaving the nuisance over my shoulders in order to get it set right. "Second plight is right," I mumbled, recalling the adage my mother would always chant to me. Again, the fickle horse attempted to shrug off her saddle, but this time my left hand kept everything intact. "Better luck next time, girl," I encouraged as my hands skillfully clasped the saddle's buckles together.

Time was hard pressed. I wouldn't have much luck locating a vendor here anyway—everyone was too busy building a fortress, and the different trades hadn't been matured as of yet. My only option was to head north and hope a city vendor crossed my path.

I didn't ride Whiplash at the first opportunity. Not so close to the keep, where people were watching. As I passed through the keep's grounds, I held Whiplash's reigns tightly and the female horse clopped along. So far, she wasn't being problematic. But then again, I hadn't even tried mounting the horse as of yet.

Once I exited Valiance Keep, my obvious lack of Northrend knowledge wasn't such an embarrassment. I could barely maneuver around Stormwind, and now somehow I expected to navigate through unknown territory.

Nodding, I halted our pace and turned toward my new companion. "I'll make you a deal. I won't tire you out just yet. But once I try hiking my rogue behind into that saddle, you better behave."

Once the Valiance Keep was out of sight, I promised myself, we'd give it a go. But currently I didn't want to make a fool out of myself.

Borean Tundra had a nip of chill in its air, but the cold wasn't overwhelming yet. The land wasn't even snow covered—dirt and mud blemished patches of green grass.

I hadn't gone far before the exotic nature of the new land was obvious. Perhaps the large moths were a general foreshadowing—their powdery white wings sprinkled red dust behind in its trail, the dust sparkling of mysterious magic.

After the moths came a shift in the land the dirt surrounding my frugal path had adopted a reddened color as well. New plans, so large they towered like trees, had the warm reddened hue as well. Their leaves seemed to breathe with life as they sheltered beautiful, sparkling seeds from the weather. The moths enjoyed the flora, and even Whiplash crooned toward the mystifying plants.

It was an odd environment to say the least—desert-like setting in the midst of ice-caped Northrend was the last thing I expected. Still, I continued, even when we began to spot vermin kobolds.

Of course, I didn't have any qualms with the creatures, but their presence unnerved me. Their frail hands clawed at plant life, long snouts sniffing and even sneezing as they scavenged the sites further from the road. Most of the creatures that sensed my passing would simply glance up, mouth curling in defense, and then begrudgingly continue their search process.

Further ahead, the land was greener. Fawn and other grazing animals minded their own. I sighed, noting that most kobolds were now behind me, and pulled Whiplash closer. "Let's give it a go, then," I muttered. "I have a feeling our encounters are only going to get more dangerous. Better pick up the pace." I rolled my eyes. "My first day alone in Northrend and I'm talking to a horse. Just don't tell anyone. It's between you and me."

Holding my breath, I grabbed the saddle and prepared for the worst. Whiplash skittered beneath my weight as I stepped into a stirrup and mounted.

Her head bucked in irritation at the new weight. Before I could open my mouth she had managed to take three forceful strides forward and then stop abruptly. I found my grip on the saddle as well as the reigns tighten, breath catching in my lungs as I nearly flew over my own horse's head. "Whiplash," I hissed, only because something between surprise and dread had cinched my jaw shut. With anxiety I pulled back on the reigns, and was handsomely rewarded, of course—Whiplash's front hooves came off the ground as she bucked in mock response.

Before a growl of anger could escape my throat I was falling backwards, legs slipping out of their proper stirrups as gravity did its work. I landed on the tough pathway with a heavy thud, my bones jarring as shock ran up my spine. Ungracefully my arms braced some impact—I felt the pebbles along the road tear at my right elbow. "You stupid horse!" I spat, trying to sit up but worried it would cause a flair of pain. I looked up, expecting to glare at the white creature as she took off without a look back—but the mare hadn't disappeared. She tussled her mane playfully, hooves clapping the ground in what I translated to be laughter. "Yeah, I bet you find that _really_ funny!" I growled. Even in my anger, though, I couldn't hide the relief that the stupid horse hadn't abandoned me. "Keep it up," I muttered, wincing as I pulled myself off the dirty ground. Red, crushed pebbles now powdered my dark leather armor. "You and I are going to butt heads this journey."

I swear the horse was a person trapped in an animal's body. She neighed lightly as if giggling, her hooves still sweeping up dirt.

What a stupid idea, I thought to myself. I asked for a horse that simply would get me there, but this was ridiculous. As I brushed away any dirt left on my clothing, I realized one of my daggers had slipped out during the fall. With a loud grumble I stooped over, picked the glinting weapon up, and stashed it in its sheath.

I continued north on foot, my hands curled into fists as I stalked onward like a pouty little girl. Fine. If the horse didn't want me to ride, then I wouldn't.

The snow-white nuisance followed me down the path. Her hooves were muffled by the dirt, and I found myself wishing my knack for reading humanoid auras was advanced with animal auras as well.

"I don't understand," I growled behind me. "I can't stop you from running off. So go already."

I didn't glace back. Perhaps a part of me feared that the horse would actually understand.

The green scenery was chipping away the dry, rough, red terrain. The skies were blue, I noted. It didn't calm my mood.

Animals could be heard calling through the fields. Howls and yips grew more unsettling as I trudged on. Even Whiplash the careless horse came to her senses—with a quick trot she was beside her new owner. "Scared?" I asked rhetorically. With all the noise, it was hard to fathom how empty the terrain seemed. We walked a bit further before a different howl broke the natural resonance. From the left a caribou of sort burst from the tall grasses, its frail legs mindlessly hammering the ground in a bout of fear. It took a split moment to maintain its balance on the new ground, its eyes not even seeming to spot me as it once again took off. It was only moments before another figure came rushing out of the grasses, this time the figure was Human. Although he was slightly hunched over like an animalistic predator, the digit wrapped around his rifle's trigger was definitely an eager Human finger. His feet planted firmly below him as a sneer of victory crawled across his face and showed off his lack of a full set of teeth. This creature didn't seem to notice me, either, even as he raised his rifle to eye level and took aim at the fawn. "Yer mine!" he cackled, lunacy creeping out of his words. The baby animal was still sprinting, fleeing from the known danger.

My intuition and clear intention was to slip by the situation all together. I hadn't previously tested it, but I was fairly certain that my leather armor was incapable of stopping rifle pellets. And, seeing as we were now in the midst of testing the theory out, I was now perfectly content with turning around. The poacher, thus far, hadn't noticed our presence, so if we were careful enough…

Just as my hand moved towards Whiplash's reigns to push us back the other way, the horse jumped onto her hind legs once again. A loud neigh escaped her mouth, causing the poacher to halt his process in surprise.

For a moment he hesitated, allowing the prey to get away as he sized us over. His gun lowered just the slightest, even as Whiplash restlessly pounded her black hooves. I couldn't decide what the fickle horse was doing—distracting the poacher to save the fawn, or distracting the poacher to put her rider on the chopping block.

Both scenarios were likely and coming true—a devilish grin was growing across the man's crooked face. I hadn't uttered a peep as of yet—my mind was still whirling, attempting to completely assess the situation. He uttered the first words: "Meddlin' in meh business," he mumbled—he sounded drunk, the words arrived so slurred. "Whadda want, gurl?"

"We don't want any trouble," I articulated clearly, hand gripping Whiplash's reigns with anticipation. By we, I really meant _me_, but the odd man's gaze had shifted to my companion, greedy eyes alit.

"Perty hide," he muttered. His hunched-over body hobbled forward a few steps, furs covering his back shifting with the motion. Whiplash immediately grew still, now alert of the man's advances.

"Leave her alone," I warned, even as the leather straps tethering my horse to me were pulled forcefully out of my grasp by Whiplash's retreating form.

In a flash the man, completely ignoring my growl, stepped closer, gun now rising to take aim. He had to be partially insane, if not completely.

My instincts drowned my senses—my dagger was drawn, right hand whipping left to right as I nicked his arm good enough that the man dropped his weapon. The poacher howled loudly, hand clutching his bleeding wound. "I gave you a fair warning," I berated with a vicious grumble. From behind me came a nuzzle—I turned quickly, my senses still attuned to danger until I registered Whiplash's white coat. The horse stepped closer, her saddle bumping into my shoulder. A grin crept through my angry face. "Let's ride."

With more grace than I anticipated I swung into the saddle, and before the greedy poacher could establish that we were missing, Whiplash had us gone.

The wind chilled my cheek bones, and it crept into my throat and left me feeling breathless.

It might have been how a Forsaken's body always felt, I thought, with the surrounding cool air and breathlessness. But even with that notion, with my abandonment of SI:7, my abandonment of Zen, of Stormwind, of friends…even with all of those acts of emotionlessness, I could feel the wind in my hair, the pounding of my horse's hooves, and the warmth at my fingertips, and I could feel alive. I still had things to live for—I sought vengeance. As long as I held on…

Whiplash dashed over a mess of rocks, her hooves momentarily completely off the ground. My air left in a forced exhale as we once again collide into the earth, but I still held on…

It wasn't for quite a distance that Whiplash slowed her pace—by then we had traveled very far north. We had passed many people on the way—well, encampments of them, at least. Some of them seemed more friendly than others—we completely avoided one camp full of Trolls and a Tauren, and once I tired approaching a camp full of Gnomes but sirens of "WARNING, INTRUDER ALERT!" caused me to continue the journey.

And by then, I was completely baffled by the land. I was a rogue—trained for surprises and taught to respond accurately, so I didn't necessarily live under a rock. But still, I was baffled. We came to a forest—a _tropical_ forest—in Northrend. I didn't know much about Northrend, I'd admit, but generally and geographically speaking, should Northrend, a continent in the north, have some winter-like qualities to it?

Was I going the wrong way? More importantly, was I on the right continent?

We trudged on anyway, through the green thickets and ferns and the like. Insects drummed and screeched all around us, and every so often the call of a wild bird sliced through the trees. Whiplash had to prod carefully through the thickets—I nearly felt bad for her.

That is until she managed to successfully attempt one of her trademark bucks—she neighed loudly, front hooves instantly in the air. Again my rear was making acquaintances with the ground, the soreness from the last fall once again a throbbing pain. "What is with you?" I yelled with frustration.

The white horse began to backpedal, her rear hooves missing my thighs by a hair as I pulled myself back to avoid getting crushed. "_Whiplash_, you stupi-" An unusual hiss halted my sentence as I crooned around Whiplash's form. Within the mangled messes of vegetation was a long snout, the skin dark green and flaky like dry mold. I wouldn't have even taken it for alive if the snout hadn't then whipped to the side, a mouth opening to reveal sharp teeth that were sickeningly white. A pinkish tongue decorated the dark mass, and now the beast's beady eyes were noticeable, even though the marbles were black as nothingness.

The crockolisk was making a dangerous charge toward its new pair of victims. I screamed. I had fought off prowling Undead without a shiver of fear. The stroke of fear may have been due to the lack of confidence. Undead were at least somewhat predictable. A crockolisk in the face wasn't exactly my expertise.

It hissed again, the noise seeming to reverb through its teeth. The alligator's strong jaw snapped shut, searching for a taste of flesh. Another yelp escaped my lips as I found myself sprawling backwards in an un-athletic attempt to get away and get up. Losing my foot wasn't exactly on today's agenda. I went sprawling so fast and so sloppily that I completely failed to acknowledge my surroundings—or lack-there-of. By the time my hands noticed a blatant discrepancy in the forest floor below me, I was already sliding; head first, down a steep bank. My chest hit a jutted rock, effectively dislodging any scream I had wanted to muster into the atmosphere.

The heat of friction along my body intensified as I slipped further down the dirt ridge, closer to a lake below. Somehow I managed, with a good grip on one of the numerous ledges, to flip so I could land somewhat feet first. In the process, though, I acquired a nice scrape along my jaw line that I knew would be purple in the morning.

I still ended up crumpling onto the sandy ground. My first worry wasn't my condition—with shaky legs I pulled myself onto my feet, looking up in an attempting to find Whiplash. Was she safe? Did she escape?

My equilibrium was disturbed, and I found myself concerned that my vulnerable state would affect my consciousness as well. My head was throbbing, concentration minimized, and despite the thought that I may be susceptible to crossing over into the Lich King's consciousness, I remained standing.

It was eerily quiet above me for a moment as I swayed on my feet. I felt entirely helpless, waiting for something to happen above me. "Wh…Whiplash?" I called, standing on my toes to try to see the top of the ridge I had toppled off.

* * *

3ritti


	14. Northrend, Pt 2

Wow, I didn't realize it had been so long since I posted. So sorry! Because of your wait, here are two updates!

* * *

**Northrend**

**Book Seven, Part Two**

Long moments ticked by as I held my breath. Then to my left was a rustle of vegetation. Still on guard, my right hand instantly went to my dagger as my muscles tensed. Whiplash arrived out of the plants, trotting quickly and with a hint of bounce as she came straight to me. Admittedly, I sighed in relief at seeing her alive and in one piece. Already the silly horse and I had been through tough times together, and our bond, although still forming, was present.

I looked the white horse over quickly for any scrapes or bites, and thankfully found none. Whiplash seemed unaffected by the incident; even her demeanor was the same.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked from behind me. I turned quickly, my eyes coming across a tanned male Human as he approached us. He didn't seem very dangerous—he was unarmed except for a wrench, and a large pair of goggles gave him a silly appearance even as he raised them onto his forehead. Brown hair sat atop his head, matching the grime and dirt smeared along his body.

I had already decided the man wasn't a threat, but he still held his gloved hands in a peace offering. "It's okay, I won't harm you…" Saying nothing, I instead opted to allow him to reach us. "I'm based here," he continued carefully. Apparently, he decided the situation was stable as well; he held out his hand carefully. "My name is Vic. I'm a pilot."

I shook his hand with a small smile. "I'm Grace. I'm sorry if our presence has startled you and the others," I nodded toward the other few people now along the lake's shore further back, "I was just…passing by…when I slipped."

"Slipped is an understatement," Vic muttered, his finger scratching his temple. "You're bleeding. Allow me and my colleagues to lend you some help…"

"I'm really okay," I insisted, a bead of sweat trailing down my neck and causing me to shudder. "I can take care of myself." Even as I spoke I ignored the pangs that began to throb along my entire body. "I'm really in a hurry. I'm on my way to Icecrown-"

"Icecrown?" repeated the pilot, his full interest now on me. He leaned in closer.

"Yes," I answered bluntly. "Everyone around here seems to have the same reaction," I grumbled more to myself. "But it's important I get there."

"Well, if you're heading towards Icecrown straight North from here, you won't make it," Vic said. My face flushed, the fluster creeping through my blood vessels. "There's a mountain chain bordering Icecrown north of here. You wouldn't be able to pass it."

"I see." Frowning, I couldn't believe how unlucky I was. Heading north wouldn't do…I had never thought to consider any obstacles. "This is such a disaster," I whispered, wanting to shift my weight but wary of my sore, delicate body.

"I'm sorry about your misfortune," Vic offered. My anger towards everything almost flared up—misfortune was an understatement. "I'd offer you a ride on my airplane, but the design is still unstable…"

"It's quite alright." I forced a smile, the corners of my lips almost forming a wince. "Thank you for the offer."

Vic glanced behind his shoulder, where I now noticed a small Gnome tinkering with what I assumed to be the airplane model. His hair was a bright green—but I paid no head to the color, considering now I was learning to expect the unexpected and then some. A Human girl was near him, but her attention was definitely more on me even as she hovered over the Gnome's work. "Tamara!" called Vic, motioning toward the girl. She smiled nicely as she approached us, bright blue eyes glittering as she shook my hand.

"I hope you're okay!" she said, hands hiding as she held them behind her back. Her blue overalls were as dirty as Vic's clothing. "That was quite the spill!"

I opened my mouth to insist I was okay, but Vic beat me to it. "Actually, Tam, I was wondering if you could help our visitor bandage up? She claims to be okay, but I won't have any of our friends leaving here worse off than they arrived!"

How I wanted to object to quite a few things Vic said. First of all, I didn't need help bandaging, whether or not the injuries were serious enough that they needed wrapping. Second, I wasn't a friend. And third, technically, I arrived in a pretty bad condition to begin with, so leaving in this condition, technically, wasn't leaving 'worse off.'

Tamara applied some herbs to my scrape on my face, and even to my leg. The trio wouldn't even let me depart without a meal. Finally, after the group was satisfied, I was given permission to leave. I gave my deepest thanks—even if I hadn't initially wanted the help, perhaps it was beneficial in the long-run.

It was much later in the day now. Whiplash trampled back up the ridge, hooves pushing through thickets even more carefully now. I didn't dare push her too hard; not until I was completely convinced she was recovered from the incident earlier.

I couldn't go any further north. Unsure of what would be in store for me in any other direction, I decided to head back south in search of direction. I was losing time, and Valiance Expedition was the option with the least variability.

Once the sun slipped beneath the horizon, I could see my breath when I exhaled. Before long, Whiplash and I had stumbled upon a small camp of people—many probably took cover within the tents supplied, but a handful of others remained outside.

It was a cold night, and perhaps the group had answers I was seeking. I couldn't sense anything unfriendly about the place—some of them were members of the Horde, but they co-existed with Night Elves. One such elf was walking about, back and forth, as a Tauren watched with a sigh.

"It's well past dusk, Saina. I think the creatures are safe until tomorrow."

"They're never safe," muttered the Night Elf in a pout. Dismounting, I kept my pace steady toward the pair, hoping they wouldn't consider me an enemy or spy for lurking in the shadows. "Trust me, if I could wipe them out all in one-" The elf spotted me and my partner, her aura flaring in curiosity.

"Sorry to frighten you," I piped. "I was just passing by, and-"

"Oh, look at the poor thing!" quipped the Night Elf, her hands clasping together. "Probably exhausted, with no place to rest!"

I sighed in relief at the welcome. "Well, actually…"

The elf's dress slipped across the grass, her small hands moving to my horse's black mane. "What's her name?" she asked, using the same coo as before.

I perked an eyebrow in confusion. "Uh…her name is Whiplash."

The woman giggled as the Tauren folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "What a great name!" With a glance to me, she smiled, eyes alit in the dark. "Would you like a place to rest tonight? Whiplash seems tired, and I have just the remedy to get her cheered up!"

"That'd be nice," I said. At least Whiplash got us a place to stay for the night. The Tauren begrudgingly did as the elf was told and took Whiplash towards the food stock as Saina lead me to the fire. "So, what is this place?" I asked simply, eyes scanning over a pair of orange banners I could barely catch in the dark. The female Tauren reappeared, her large mass even blacker than the nighttime.

"We're from DEHTA," answered the Night Elf cheerfully. "My name is Saina. The sour puss over there is Zanthar." The oversized cow gave an appropriate huff in response.

"I'm Grace."

"Pretty name," complimented Saina. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight like Taellor's had.

"Thanks." After a few moments of crackling embers from the fire, I broke our silence. "What's DEHTA?"

"Oh!" piped Saina. She smiled once again. "You must be new to these parts. As members of DEHTA, we vow to protect and defend the wild animals of the tundra from poachers and looters!"

"Oh." Trying my best not to frown, I slouched the slightest in my spot. "Protecting the wildlife. How…valiant."

"We try!"

I forced out what would have been a sigh and disguised it as a loud exhale. "There are many of you?"

"Mhm," nodded Saina. Her silver hair glinted in the moon, and even at night I could see her soft features. "From the Horde and Alliance. We work together."

"Yeah, I noticed," I commented lightly.

"Our two sides have more in common than many like to believe."

For a moment I thought back to the fight in the Plaguelands, when a group of Horde ultimately allied with us to vanquish the common Undead enemy. "I can believe that," I surmised.

"You must be terribly exhausted, traveler, and here I am chatting away!" announced the small Night Elf in her high pitched voice. "Zanthar pitched an extra tent for you, so go ahead and rest up. Tomorrow's a new day with new challenges!"

Nodding, I forced my body to stand and painfully hobble to the tent. "Thanks so much," I said.

Before falling asleep, I covered my wounds with some herbs (courtesy of Vic's squad) and re-bandaged my leg. The injuries weren't too gruesome—pain came from the tumbling and bruising I had endured over the day. After the bandaging, it wasn't difficult to find sleep, even with such a harsh sleeping ground.

When I awoke, the crackling of the fire was absent, but it was replaced with the murmur of conversation outside. The sunlight added a bright glow to my tent's coverage. "A Human girl?" came a rumbling male voice from outside the tent.

"Mhm." With one simple phrase I knew it was Saina responding. "She needed rest overnight. That's her horse over there. Isn't she the cutest little thing?"

"Is she lost?" asked the male.

"The horse? I don't think…"

"Saina, my dear, the Human," corrected the other. His response wasn't in agitation, though by his tone I could presume he'd become accustomed to making such corrections.

"Oh. I don't believe so. I mean, not lost in the sense of hopelessly lost. She actually looks quite prepared for anything, with her daggers and all…"

The male—probably Night Elf—had a flare in his aura. "She's not a poacher, Saina. Don't tell me you welcomed one of _them _into our camp."

"Heavens, no!" piped the female. "She's too nice, Darin."

"Darin!" came a loud, heavily masculine voice from the distance. "Darin, you tree hugger!" the voice boomed.

"That can't be Vii, can it?" asked Saina.

"Vii should be traveling south," answered Darin. "It shouldn't be."

"Dar!"

"But it is," added Darin.

Deciding the buzz about me died down enough, I stepped out of my tent. Saina, of course, I could recognize-her petite form and silver hair hadn't changed with the arrival of day. With her was a much taller, more haggard looking male Night Elf.

His skin was a very mystifying purple; loose, midnight-blue hair reaching his back. His pants were simple cloth, and he wore a jacket that exposed his fit shape. He glanced me over, eyes scrutinizing my appearance until he silently decided there were more important matters to worry about. His gaze instead shifted ahead of him, and curiosity forced my eyes to follow his.

Approaching the small DEHTA camp were two male Draeneis atop large, purple eleks. One was much taller, more built, and older than his partner, though they shared a common skin tone of blue and black hair. The taller Draenei also had a dark beard, held in a tasteful style with three golden metal bands. A similar golden piece decorated the younger Draenei's left arm. Both men were covered by sufficient armor, bearing a more important aura than the silly DEHTA camp. Hidden behind the larger Draenei was a silver mace, the symbol of the Naaru gracing its blunt. His young companion must have been a hunter—a large snow-white tiger stood ready at his side.

"Shouldn't you be on your way to your base?" asked Darin, his aura of slight irritation completely absent in his tone of voice.

"I was," announced the loud voice I recognized as the "Vii" from earlier, "until this morning, one of those poacher traps nearly took off Blizz's leg." The feline with the group rumbled, one paw feeling the ground as the other was drawn up toward the stomach. It looked well-bandaged, but the smaller Draenei looked severely concerned. "Kae helped wrap her up to the best of his ability. But I figured your people would have a good herb medicine for the wound."

"Of course we can help," Darin acknowledged. Almost automatically Saina was falling back toward her hut, determined to uncover a medicine for the feline.

"I should also inform you, my good friend, that these vile poachers are traveling further south, closer to the keep. If something isn't done about this, Darin…"

"I know, Vii," interrupted the male Night Elf. Any other race speaking like such would have sounded rude, but Darin's Night Elf nature softened the interruption into an assurance. "We're trying our best with the numbers we have."

Vii nodded as his younger companion's hooves shifted in the dirt. The younger's eyes remained on the white tigress as she sat quietly, tail twitching slightly. "Your numbers are low, I know." Vii's eyes shifted to me, a large eyebrow quirked in curiosity. "Have the druids resorted to recruiting Humans?"

"Uh, no," replied Darin. His tone never broke, but the hesitation caused Vii's aura to flair with interest. "She stayed the night."

"Ah." The large Draenei nodded, eyes distant. "Night Elves and their generosity. How could I forget." Darin pretended not to hear his friend's undermining comment.

"We couldn't let her wander around at night all alone!" piped Saina. "She'd been traveling all day-"

"Where are you heading to, lady?" asked Vii. He looked me over with a patronizing smirk.

"Well," I sighed. "I need to head to Icecrown. I was heading north, but apparently it was the wrong way. I'm backtracking to Valiance Keep."

"What do you know!" Vii bellowed in his obvious Draenei accent. "That's where Kae and I must head!"

"To the keep?" I asked.

"And then to Icecrown, of course. We're part of the Argent Dawn's crusade here on the continent."

I paused. "You are?" Vii nodded, the smirk refusing to leave his face. "That's coincidence. I heard the Argent Dawn is leading the attacks…you can tell me where to go?"

"You have to travel up and over Valiance Keep, east towards the Unu'pe colony. They're very friendly people—well, beings. They have a turtle route there. Takes you up toward Moa'ki…"

"So, I head east from the keep?" I asked carefully.

"Yes, but you must be careful, there's hunters and poachers and the…" Vii sighed. "You know, it'd be easier if I took you. That way…"

"I'll be fine," I announced defensively. "I'm a rogue. We don't…work well with others." That was a very potential lie. But they didn't need to know that.

"Oh, Grace!" Saina chirped in her high pitched voice. "Vii's right! He's been all over the land, and I'd feel better if you and Whiplash had company. I know you're well equipped, and you can probably handle yourself, but…you and Whiplash would fare better."

The horse. I forgot. This was about Whiplash's safety. Never mind the fact that she threw me off her back twice. _I_ was in more danger because of _her_, not the other way around.

"At least go with them to the keep," offered Saina. "It's not far. Then if it's not working out, you part ways."

Finally, I sighed in defeat. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"Excellent! We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Grace, was it?" inquired Vii. I nodded. "Excellent then, Grace."

Quickly I gathered by bag, despite the urge to slack and attempt to delay. I walked back toward the center of camp to find my horse equipped and ready. With a gruff neigh Whiplash begrudgingly followed my lead toward Vii and the others. "Tell me about it," I grumbled, rubbing her nose. She huffed again.

Vii and Kae were already mounted on their huge eleks. Hesitantly, I grabbed Whiplash's reigns and lifted into her saddle with a small prayer.

The horse didn't buck or scuttle, to my relief—my behind was still sore from the last time. The three of us, plus Blizz the tiger, turned to begin our journey. "Thank you, friends," Vii called. "For the ointment! Kae is very grateful!"

"Anytime, Vii. Bliz'll be pouncing about in no time," encouraged Saina.

We continued after goodbyes. After a few moments down the path, Vii nodded. "This is probably best. You may be skilled, but if a handful of Horde attack, you're relying more on luck."

I held my tongue, deciding it was best to keep our travel as detached as possible. The eleks made soft thumping noises as they walked. One of their strides equaled a gallop of Whiplash's. It seemed Whiplash was as enthusiastic about the other larger animals as I was the Draenei.

This wasn't the best option. Company equaled a chance of distraction. And if I lost focus…

"So," began Vii wish his jolly smile, "why are you willing to endanger yourself by going to Icecrown?"

I debated with whether or not to answer. Finally, deciding it was harmless, I kicked Whiplash in order to catch up to the eleks. "My brother. He was based in Icecrown."

Vii held back a chuckle. "Did your mother bake a Mulberry pie to send him?"

I didn't know whether to smirk or scowl. "He _was_ in Icecrown. He's disappeared. I'm here to investigate."

Silence. I continued in pace with them. "Where you from, Grace?" Vii asked.

A headache started to peck at my temples. "Stormwind," I answered. "I was trained at the SI:7 base there."

"Rogue," Vii acknowledged with a nod. His smile, if possible, widened. "Triple threat." Even Kae stifled a chuckle.

"Triple threat?" I repeated.

"Well, that has to be the most difficult combination to deal with!" Vii explained with a shake of his head. "Female human rogue! What a fickle…" I shook my head, at a loss for words. Not even halfway into our journey yet, and the bantering had began. "This isn't a stroll in the gardens, child," Vii mentioned. "One can't simply…solo the entire continent. There's plenty of Hordies 'round here just waiting to pounce. And the Scourge is always looking for opportunities to sink their teeth into the vulnerable…"

"They've taken advantage of those opportunities already," I bit, the bitterness more harsh than I intended. "Teeth and all."

Kae and Vii were silent for a few moments. "You survived an attack?" Kae asked, breaking his silent bout.

"Two attacks," I answered shortly.

It was fairly silent within our party the remaining distance to Valiance Keep. Vii and Kae held conversations, of course, but I made no effort to join in.

The more I listened, though, the less offended I was of Vii's comments. He was a jolly Draenei, and his banter was only meant for laughs.

After some traveling, we finally were in range of our destination. The familiar dirt was beginning to replace the reddish hues, and the smell of sea water was growing stronger.

"We just need to touch bases with a few people in here, and then we'll head to Icecrown," announced Vii. I nodded.

Before the fort was even within our sight, Kae stopped suddenly, his elek's thumping strangely absent. "What?" asked his older companion, instantly tense.

"Something's wrong at the keep," Kae murmured. "There's a…large number of Undead…they're something I can't pinpoint."

I had been distancing myself from anything that affiliated me with the Lich King, in fear of having a confrontation I couldn't handle. The pull was getting stronger, and avoiding a crossover was becoming more difficult with time. My knack for sensing Undead had grown especially lax with the new companions who could sense Undead.  
Now, without a thought, I triggered my potential. The throb in my temples increased, but within a split moment my senses were heightened, the stench of Undead magnifying and almost causing me to swoon.

Vii must have felt my aura shift, because instead of looking toward the keep, his eyes landed on me.

"He's right," I mused. "Some kind of darkness is clouding the fort."

"I feel it as well," Vii added. His paladin abilities were finally applicable to something. "It's definitely a different aura. We'll have to be careful."

My heart was pounding. It was about time we had a bit of action around here.

Once we could see the keep, our eyes could match auras with beings. Spider-like things were attacking the front doors of the fort. They were numerous—enough to cause a dense blanket of darkness—and seemingly determined to break through the ranks of soldiers around the outside walls.

It must have been fairly early in battle. A few spider parts were strewn around the terrain, crimson blood reflecting in the sun. The insects were massive. The silvery-blue bodies were quite the match for the soldiers geared in mail—long thin legs were lost amongst silver swords.

The shrieks were the worst. Even from above on the path I could hear the piercing cries of the spiders. It made me clench my jaw in unease—the sound seemed to rock straight to my temples.

"Hell," Vii grumbled. He leaned in a tad, obviously already attempting to devise a plan. From what I knew, I could assume there was no alternative way in. The real brainstorm was within how to get through the mess of a fight. "Okay," Vii finally announced. "We'll have to leave behind the mounts for now. They'll be too big of a distraction in battle. Kae, I want you to run Gracie Girl inside and then-"

"What?" I snapped. "We just went over this. I'm a rogue. You can't keep me out of a good fight!"

"Please, Grace," Vii stated. "We specialize in things that refuse to die. You just make sure you get to safety."

My mouth fell open, shock causing my face to flush. "What? Why you-"

"I'll lay a consecration, of course. Burn up as many as I can. Kae, protect Gracie's behind. Have Blizz help take down as many as possible, of course. Let's show them how an alien invasion really goes down!"

I growled, already sick of being underestimated. With a heave I was off Whiplash. "Stay," I commanded. "You're safe here. I'll come back for you. Got it?"

No response. Vii and Kae were already off their eleks, weapons drawn as they leered out our daunting task. "Once you get inside, be sure the women and children are safe," Vii explained. I rolled my eyes as we trudged through the field, immersed in the action surrounding us.

Blizz hissed, claws retracted in eagerness as she slinked beside her young owner. Kae seemed collected, but he still seemed too young to be wielding a mature bow. He was the first to act—I stood between the two Draenei, watching as Kae swiftly drew an arrow, slid it along his bow, and aimed and fired with deadly precision. The spark of violence had me itching for my daggers. "Normally, I respect my elders," I grumbled. "But I've broken commands before, Vii."

I felt Vii's aura prickle with disbelief. My hands were finally wrapping around the hilts of my daggers. "Girlie!" growled Vii. "Unless you want to die on this battlefield, you should listen to my instructions."

"Triple threat, remember?" I growled as a hurl of spiders turned their attention on us and began their attack. "Female human rogue?"

Blizz charged with an animalistic growl, teeth sinking into the nearest body. Kae swung his axe just as Vii unleashed a consecration that lit up the ground beneath me.

"Don't make me tag _stupid_ onto that list!" roared Vii. I merely grinned as my daggers popped loose. With a swift swipe I severed off a pair of legs from the closest spider. Crippled, it only made a hobbled crooked step before I managed a deft blow into its chest. It cracked under pressure. "Get inside!" Vii barked again.

I rolled my eyes. "No."

It wasn't a direct breach of orders anymore. I continued to slash away, mind numbed from the screeches of death. The aura of the Scourge drowned my senses, acting as a drug. I could push away realities like love, pain, life, death—Undeath.

Right now it was just me and the enemy. And an adrenaline rush that intensified with the spilling of blood.

Vii's consecration again scorched the ground below us, looking like webs of Light ready to entangle enemies. Unlike my burning run-in with the Blood Elf paladin's consecration in the Plaguelands, this was painless. It was only warmth beneath the soles of my boots, but it torched the Undead things around us. It burnt their legs, sending screeches of pain through the battle that meshed with the stench of scorched flesh.

Blizz was to my left, ripping apart whatever part of an enemy she could bite into. Vii's mallet, combined with his Light, crushed opponents fairly quickly. Kae was a skilled archer—he stayed ranged whenever possible. Usually his arrows would finish off the spiders Blizz was mauling, but every so often an arrow would soar into my own target's body.

They were accustomed to handling these kind of beings. Undead things. It was a small relief to know I didn't have to watch everyone else's behinds as closely as my own.

Once the enemies around us were vanquished, Vii turned to me, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe through his heavy armor. Dark red painted his body, and I assumed my armor wasn't much better off. "You are _stupid_," he articulated. "So you're bloody lucky that you're skilled."

I smirked. "Those were too easy. You're familiar with the Scourge, you know that." I wiped my blades off as Kae arrived, Blizz loyally arriving at his side. He listened in, at the same time bending over to dislodge any used arrows he could reach. I shook my head as I scanned the battleground. "Arthas is experimenting here as well. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but…" I sighed. "They're petty. He's throwing his toy puppets around, testing them while keeping the living ranks distracted. He's got bigger plans…" My lips tightened as I thought out loud; I then noticed Vii's perked eyebrow.

"You're from Stormwind?" he asked. "You're new to Northrend, and yet you seem very aware of what's going on."

"Arthas' power is expanding," I mentioned casually as I began to walk through the keep's huge walls. "His forces have sprouted elsewhere, including in the Eastern Kingdom. It's spreading like a disease."

"It _is_ a disease," grumbled Vii. "It's a damn _plague_."

Once we reached the inside, news that the enemy had been kept at bay had traveled. Most of the soldiers were returning to their proper places, although some had been assigned to cleanup. Town life was beginning to return to normal.

"We'll head to the war quarters," Vii instructed Kae. "Hopefully we will accumulate more support. I'd hate to say it, but maybe the attack has them shaking in their mail boots." Kae chuckled as Vii turned towards me, the sunlight catching the metallic surface of his mace. "And what about you, rogue?"

"I wouldn't want my stupid human feminism to get in your way," I declared with a sarcastic smile. "I can do this on my own. I was trained for the-"

"Trained or not, rogue, you're still new here. You don't know the geography, the people…you'll run into difficulties. Even you're stupid side should be able to acknowledge that."

"I'll be a burden," I grumbled defensively—even though I wasn't quite sure what I was defending anymore.

"You can hold your own in battle. That's not a burden. So," Vii rolled his shoulders, probably relieving them somewhat of the heavy armor. "We're going to plead our cause to the proud, benevolent people of Valiance Expedition. Successful or not, we're traveling back to Icecrown. You're welcome to join."

I sighed. I couldn't deny the partial truth—I definitely didn't know the layout as well.

With a bit of a drag in my stride I followed the two large blue figures, noting how their exotic tails swayed with their strides.

We entered one building I assumed to be the war quarters. The main room was large, with many different people of all kinds of races.

Vii introduced himself as well as Kae, saying they were a part of the Argent Dawn. Many people listened intently, except I just couldn't remain focused on the situation.

I felt antsy. Vii's booming, jovial voice had settled into the background, becoming no more than a murmur. I blinked, and a flash of blue flooded my eyelids. My body swayed, and I forced my eyes open. Reeling backwards as quietly as possible, I tried to remain calm.

My spine jarred up against the stone wall, but the pain didn't distract me from the obvious discourse my mind was wrestling with. I was fading in and out, vision growing fuzzy and refocusing too quick for my brain to fathom.

_Don't let go, _I growled at myself. My fingernails dug into the stone behind me. _Don't lose it._

The blue haze remained, so intense I had to force my eyes shut. It took control immediately.

The Lich King stood at a balcony. Or, rather, it was me now standing there. White strands of hair tried to block my vision.

_We have more loyal servants, my King,_ someone announced from behind me. I didn't want to be curious, but I wanted to learn more. When his body turned towards the voices origin, I didn't try fighting out of consciousness.

He followed behind his Undead minion, heavy boots clanking across granite as he reached a circular room. Now in front of him were three haggard men—two humans and a dwarf. None adorned any part of an Alliance uniform—or even an Argent Dawn tabard. They had been stripped down to bare minimum, their skin a sickly purple color from either cold, exhaustion, or torture. Under their eyes were sallow bags, making their eyes look even darker and distant.

I was pleased. They were weak, empty of any trace of hope or vengeance, or any other petty human trait. It was perfect. _Are you ready for your real purpose? _my masculine voice asked. I already knew the answer. It was blatantly obvious on their faces and in the way they stood.

"_No._" It was my own voice, but I couldn't tell if I had actually uttered it in my own body or simply thought it.

The Lich King's helmet cocked in interest just the slightest. _No?_

It felt like the walls of his realm were collapsing around me—the pressure caused my blue surroundings to dim around the edges. I didn't want to be there, but it was like polar opposites of a pair of magnets—I had gotten too close and now it was difficult to discern myself from him.

The realization itself was force enough to throw me back into my body with a fierce shove. My breathing was shallow as my legs gave in and I sat against the back wall. The others were still murmuring in the center of the room—from Vii's tight expression I could guess thing's hadn't been settled yet.

At least my episode had gone unnoticed.

"Are you okay?"

_She's still being a nuisance._

With gritted teeth I focused on Kae's concerned form. In and out of focus the Draenei went, and I was having flashbacks of the voyage to Icecrown.

It was getting dangerous, and the fear of slipping away had me pulling away—or trying to, at least. I concentrated on Kae. "I'm fine," I forced.

"Are you sure? Your eyes…"

I blinked. "What?"

"They're purple."

I withheld a growl, knowing full well that any kind of anger could kick me into the Lich King's realm. "They've always been purple."

_If we ever cross paths, you vile human wench…_

"Well, are they always glowing like that?"

Frowning in confusion, I tried not to reveal to Kae that I was genuinely surprised. I was fairly certain that admitting an affiliation to the Lich King was a promised death sentence.

_We will cross paths,_ I thought, not trying to communicate with the sick lich but certain I was. _I'll be sure of it._

It was as if I had been held underwater, deprived of air and awareness. My full consciousness rushed into my body as if I'd broken the water's surface and hitched a full inhale.

I fully escaped the Lich King's consciousness, but how I had done so was beyond me. I couldn't dwell on it further—Kae turned towards his uncle, who now nodded approvingly.

"I suppose that is only fair," Vii commented. "If your scout comes with us, I am fully confident that you will only gain a full certainty in our righteous cause."

"I'm glad you agree, paladin," said a man of the keep. His hands were clasped behind his back as he addressed Vii. "I'll send a scout with you to your base in Icecrown. He'll spend a few weeks in your presence as he sees fit, and give us news of what he sees."

"He will see a very organized, very lethal movement," assured Vii.

"I am looking forward to his return," the Human said. "For your enemy is our enemy as well, friend."

"I couldn't agree anymore."

The Human soldier smiled, shifting his weight. "Sergeant Graystone!" he called.

"Commander!" called one among the ranks along the walls. The accent should have clued me in—a stout, broad-shouldered Dwarf stepped up to his leader, boots clipping as he did so. His beard and braided hair were a vibrant red that accented the obvious glint of agitation in his green eyes.

"You are to accompany these members of the Argent Dawn to their base, where you'll monitor their progress as well as the advances of the Scourge. Keep a log. I expect very detailed reports, Sergeant. I'm entrusting this responsibility to you, Graystone."

"Of course, Commander." Graystone's superior saluted the Dwarf, who returned the gesture. When the Human turned back towards Vii, however, Graystone had a hard time hiding a roll of his eyes.

"I suggest you head out as soon as possible," announced the commander. "There's supposed to be a winter storm rumbling in from the west. Hopefully it misses you on your journey."

"Then I suppose leaving now is advisable," agreed Vii. "Thank you again for listening to our pleas. The Argent Dawn would be very fortunate f we gain allies in your people."

"Go with honor, friend."

Vii bowed, almost the Human's height as he did so. "May the Light bless you."

Kae stepped toward the exit, meeting his Uncle near the doorway as the disgruntled Dwarf fell in-step behind.

I followed as well. As I fell into rank next to Graystone, the Dwarf tossed me a curious glance. "You too, eh? Scoutin'?"

I smirked. "Not scouting. But yes."

"This just keeps gettin' better," grumbled the Dwarf. "Send the midget fireball, he'll make a wonderful scout with 'is bowed legs an' oversized axe." I couldn't help but giggle.

Graystone gathered his gear and horse as Vii lead me to a small food store. It was near high noon when the four of us reconvened. The Dwarf tossed one large pack onto his large steed's backside, then stuffed two large bottles of ale into the small pockets. Vii's eyebrows rose as Graystone placed one foot in a stirrup and barely managed to launch his body up onto the saddle.

"The bottles," began Vii. "…I suppose they're not filled with mana potion?"

"It's me special beverage," Graystone corrected, patting the bottles affectionately. "I'm gonna need 'em for this trip."

With a chuckle Vii started off, our small caravan falling in behind him. Whiplash behaved as we trotted along. Vii and Kae and their eleks led on as my horse kept in stride with Graystone's.

Judging by the axe, I'd say Graystone was a warrior. Nothing surrounding him emitted a mystical aura like paladins or priests had. I almost asked the fiery-haired male, but his obvious unhappiness had sealed my lips shut.

We weren't riding for very long when Graystone pulled out his first bottle. He uncapped it with a loud _pop_, even as I watched him with a perked eyebrow. "It helps thicken yer skin," he muttered, taking a quick swig. "Keeps the body warm."

"Are you any good with that axe, Graystone?" Vii asked innocently.

"Course!" piped the stout man, back straightening with pride.

"Excellent," Vii said. "Because when it comes time to fight, and you're sliding off your horse and the _axe_ is swinging _you_, I'm not going to cover your wobbly behind."

Graystone actually chuckled, even as he put the bottle to his lips for another drink. "Everyone's always gotta crack the funny drunken Dwarf jokes," he commented lightly, downing another swallow of ale.

I tried to ignore the group as we traveled. Every so often, I felt a smile pull at my lips. But it hurt, because I couldn't be truly carefree with my goals in mind. My brother had to be found. I had to reach Icecrown and find out where he was. Everything I had worked for, for so many months now, I had left behind. I lost my father. I lost Dennis. I turned away from Zen. And I'd never be able to face my mother or Matthew if…

Reach Icecrown. One step at a time.

The foreign surroundings had my senses in overdrive. My head ached, and I was growing anxious about my vulnerability to the Lich King's thoughts.

For the first time in my rogue career, I felt that perhaps I was in over my head.

It made my heart flutter.

"So these…creatures…are friendly?" I surmised, noticing how the strange beings seemed very kind as we walked through the peaceful village. Large masses of bones seemed to make up the infrastructure of buildings. Different hides acted as material.

"Of course." Vii bowed at a few of the tusked creatures, who smiled in response as we trotted toward the dock. "We are very blessed to have the Unu'pe tribe's cooperation and willingness."

The turtle ride was interesting. Surprisingly enough, the ride was smooth—smoother than the journey on the boat to Northrend.

It was a lengthy trip. I kept mostly to myself. Whiplash stood on the shell, cautious as the sea creature made tiny changes in its course. She stayed close to me as the waters lapped against the transportation system—her hind leg was touching my shoulder as her tail flicked.

My chin rested on my knees as I focused on thinking about nothing. I was doing well until Kae's bulky form approached me. "Are you going to explain what happened back at the keep?"

I felt my throat tighten in unease. Vii and Graystone were holding a large, obnoxiously animated conversation. It could have very well been an argument. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kae smirked, though it wasn't a conscious display of arrogance. It was a soft smirk as Kae gazed out at the waters. His legs were bent in front of him, hooves steadying his position on the turtle's back. "You thought I'd forget about it. Shrug it off."

"It would be for the best," I surmised.

"I don't forget things very easily," Kae said lightly. "Ever since my parents died, I make sure I remember details. There are some things I never want to forget."

My lips tightened in a grimace. "I'm sorry about your parents."

Kae looked up, toward the sun. "Don't apologize. Everyone carries their own pains. That's why I'm with my uncle."

Why the young Draenei, usually so quiet, now tried talking to me, was beyond my understanding. But as long as the subject remained on him, and not on me, I was satisfied. "Did you want to be a hunter?"

"In order to remain with my uncle. I had to train for some sort of class. I wasn't incredibly gifted with anything spectacular, so I chose hunter. My Uncle Vii is my only blood relative to survive. He travels constantly, but I wanted to remain with him."

"I see."

"What about you?"

I sighed. "I suppose I got pulled into this mess on a whim. My teacher realized I had talents for remaining undetected. Being a rogue was an easy choice."

"If it's so dangerous back in the Eastern Kingdom," began Kae with genuine curiosity, "why didn't you remain to defend it?"

"My brother is missing on this continent. I have to find him."

"Right," Kae muttered. "But…you know this war. You know the consequences of war, and you had a duty elsewhere. What made you get up and act?"

I grimaced. Damn. "It's complicated," I insisted obtusely.

"Does it have something to do with what happened earlier? In the war room?" pried the Draenei.

My face twisted into a frown when I realized the young hunter had very accurate assumptions. "What makes you think that?"

"You won't talk about either subject," Kae coolly explained. "You can't hide behind your aura much longer. It perplexes me. One moment your aura is as solid as felsteel, and then the next moment, it's static. There's no definition, just…bursts going to different extremes of temperament."

"I'm under a lot of stress," I explained. Quite the understatement, all things considered.

"Sooner or later, you'll have to stop shutting out the world. You have to remember we're all on the same side."

Shutting my eyes, I tried to block out the memories that seemed to fade into my thoughts. Hadn't I heard that before?

_"You're jumping to conclusions, girl," Zen stated. Swiftly he pulled me through the streets. "You need to remember that we're on the same side." A sharp left turn as I tried not to get my shoulder slammed into a corner. "Nothing should stop your desires…"_

Suddenly, any motivation to talk and share my story seemed extinguished. Kae seemed to notice my reflections, and he kept his thoughts to himself as I clenched my jaw.

Thinking of Zen was bittersweet. It kept my concentration off of the throbbing headache. The pull toward the Lich King could at least be ignored, if not avoided. But it introduced a different pain, a guilty pang that made my shoulders tense. We were close—we were getting closer, at least, before I left. I had thrown it in his face. As a companion and a former apprentice.

Kae's words stung a bit—I wasn't normally a heartless rogue. I normally didn't shut people out. I was becoming what I accused Zen of being—a robot. Grimacing, I shook my head. Ironic, that I had been trying to coax Zen out of the same thing I was now becoming. The tables had definitely turned, and they didn't seem to be in anyone's favor.

But it was necessary. I was protecting those I loved by leaving, and I was protecting those I met by keeping them away. And most importantly, I had to keep the Lich King out. I couldn't really do that if my moods stirred dramatically.

Of course, the stress of thinking on it probably didn't help.

I couldn't let myself act normal. It would harm everything I was working toward. Keeping my distance was the best way to keep my allies safe, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

* * *

3ritti


	15. Knight

Part two of my update =] Enjoy!

Also, if anyone ever has any questions or ideas, etc., please feel free to review, and I'll answer in my author profile =]

And if you don't have any questions…well, review anyway please! =]]] Your reviews are always so uplifting and they keep me writing, and writing, and writing...

* * *

**Knight**

**Book Eight, Part One**

We docked into a harbor called Moa'ki, where the inhabitants resembled the Unu'pe people. The resemblance was even obvious in the architecture and style of the village. "We're going to rest here," Vii insisted. "Grace, you're going to need better clothing, and Blizz needs her rest. The mounts need it as well…"

My irrationality wanted to surface again. My horse didn't need rest. I didn't need rest. And I surely couldn't afford resting, either.

Vii must have felt me get uneasy. "Icecrown is northeast, not far. We can afford a good rest."

I decided not to comment. Before the sun set Vii took me to the vendors. The Moa'ki people had apparently uncovered the secrets to keeping warm in such climates, and decided to share it with the humans and other races. Most of my new clothing was lined with fur and made of tough hides. I didn't recognize half the mystical animals they told me were the origins.

It was an entire wardrobe replacement. My boots were now tougher for the terrain and lined with fur. My pants were thicker, as well, and the elasticity surprised me. My white blouse I kept, but I now donned a long-sleeved undershirt made of similar material to my pants. I was even spoiled with a fur-lined vest, but it fit strange with my shoulder guards and was kept in my knapsack. New gloves matched the vest in color and lining. Finally, a heavy cloak finished the outfit. It was lined with very thick, white fur that was soft to the touch.

My outfit was very brown, but it wasn't much of a change. And despite the warmth it gave me, the clothing really wasn't too heavy. It wasn't too bad of an exchange, and Vii even offered to pay, refusing to take any of my money.

Perhaps Vii wasn't so bad after all.

We were supposed to stay at the inn. I got a room all to myself, and after a nice, warm meal, I retired into my room. As I took off my new boots, I debated on whether I should stay with the odd group I acquired. The idea of leaving the group and forging ahead had been nagging at my conscience since Vii announced our temporary stay.

Of course I wanted to continue, but Whiplash was already tethered up, probably resting. And my gear was now off. When was the last time I had rested in a real bed?

Flashes of the short nights lying with Zen in his satin bed greeted my thoughts. Exhaling loudly, I caved and allowed myself to lie down.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not. It was blue—everything, of course, was blue.

_These recruits are acceptable. Have them sent immediately to—_

There was a pause. The Lich King was looking over a group of Scourge. They weren't broken, unresponsive beings as I'd seen before. Nor were they the rotten, fragile corpses that the Lich King enjoyed puppeting. These 'recruits' were _soldiers_. And they resembled their living, breathing selves.

The flesh was pale, yes, and the hair was white. But the most striking feature was their icy blue, piercing eyes. Cold and daunting, they seemed to see through life itself.

Lethal beings.

_You have returned, _the Lich King seethed. He wasn't speaking to his beloved recruits, nor his officers—the irritation painting his words was definitely directed to me.

I couldn't respond as I could before. I felt passively involved—helpless for the first time since I had been turning.

_It's stronger now. You feel it as well. Are your Human bones trembling at the thought?_

He scanned his men once again. _Do you like them? _This _is what your kingdom will succumb to._

Pull away. How could I escape? Was there an exit this time?

_You fear, and therefore, you suffer. The flaw of the living is that they live._

My hate and fear began to rise within me. I wasn't sure if it was the Lich King's animosity I was getting entwined with, or my own spirit finally making a stand on enemy territory.

_Fear the Scourge! The reckoning has come!_

His knights were howling, the sound so feral it jarred my teeth. One moment I was witnessing their displays of arrogance, and the next moment I was nearly flying up out of bed, frame creaking loudly at the lurch.

I was drenched with sweat, and my breathing was shallow and shaky as my trained eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness of the bedroom.

I was trembling. My body instantly clicked into over drive, and my actions were instinctual as I threw my gear on, equipped my bag and weapons, and slipped out of the room.

My senses still didn't calm down, but at least my hand was steady now as I slipped through the darkness, breathing silent. Some things, like my rogue instincts, would always take precedence over my Human traits.

It was the middle of the night, which was an advantage to me. Prowling at nighttime was natural, even on an entirely different continent. My movement was quiet as I slinked down the stairs and exited the inn without a thought.

Whiplash, at my arrival behind the inn, began to stir, her hooves dancing in the snow. Even with her antsy behavior, though, Whiplash was generally quiet. "Ready, girl?" I whispered.

I couldn't think. The vision had thrown any reconsideration out of the options. With my instinctual actions taking control, I was now even more hell-bent on reaching the Argent Dawn as soon as humanly possible. And if I did stop to think of my predicament, then slipping into the Lich King's consciousness was by far more likely. I was less emotionally unstable this way.

Northeast, Vii had mentioned. Then northeast it was. It couldn't be too much more hassle.

My heart was pounding, a good testament to my livelihood. At least I hadn't transformed into on of those _things_ through the night. And I felt fear. A human, living trait, according to the Lich King himself.

Fearful of what I had witnessed. Fear for both what we could become and what we were up against. And fearful because of the unknown. The Argent Dawn had to be warned immediately.

The knowledge of fear was everywhere around me. The chills down my spine were alarming as I mounted my white horse. And as foreign as the concept of fear had been, the feeling itself seemed so familiar. It was as if fear had been following me around the entire time, and I had been too busy or oblivious to notice.

I felt tense as I encouraged Whiplash into a full gallop. The acknowledgement of fear left me feeling vulnerable; so helpless. So Human.

Whiplash didn't need much coaxing. With a small kick she was in a full gallop, the darkness turning her white coat into a mere blur. Even in the shroud of night, Whiplash trusted her master.

We made a straight path northwest, cutting out our own trail in the snow. My horse's breaths escaped her nostrils in puffs of smoke, as if she was breathing fire.

I didn't want to hear his voice ever again. I hated the way I felt when I slipped onto the Lich King's side, how his disgust and pleasantries seemed to become mine. That's what distressed me most—understanding and experiencing what the King of the Scourge felt.

It was full speed ahead. Whiplash seemed to sense how intense I was. I was slightly lacking of sleep, and it was very difficult to concentrate as everything buzzed by my senses, but I was making due. Focusing, I realized we were quickly approaching what appeared to be a village, decorated by their banners. In the dark, at first I thought maybe it was a branch of the Moa'ki and Unu'pe tribes, but quickly Whiplash zeroed in on the banners.

The banners were blood red and tattered. The oh-so-familiar crest of the Horde was discernable even in the blackness of night. When the danger had finally registered, I pulled back on Whip's reigns with a bit too much strength, and she skidded in an attempt to obey.

I steered the horse in the northern direction, her momentum unable to fully stop anyway. With a few kicks of snow to catch her bearings, Whiplash was galloping yet again.

We managed a bit more distance before I began to sense a group of auras. Fear tampered with my sense of judgment, and by the time I could feel the beings, we were on top of them.

Whiplash reared her front legs, nearly taking me out of the saddle as she attempted to avoid the group of Horde around the cliff. In the night I could usually pick up auras better than see bodies—with the number of them and my panicked state I must have miscalculated.

And there were others besides the Horde. My panic spiked—Scourge. The Horde had them cornered, but my arrival had alerted both groups.

My horse spun around on command as I held back a scream, front legs landing with a thud as she now ran south. We hadn't been officially dismissed by the others, though—the group of Horde, as well as the Scourge they had been attempting to hold back, turned on us.

It was in that moment, when my head spun to look behind us and I calibrated the distance between _us _and _them_, that I realized I hated being afraid. With descent of fear, all of my previous training, beliefs, and thoughts vanished. I had learned to fight, and I had taught myself never to retreat. I had been willing to die for my cause. But it didn't matter at that moment—fear had me running away.

The ghouls were sprawling toward us, and the Horde members were now drawing their bows. Shadows above me caught my attention. A gargantuan dragon—it couldn't' have been anything else—hovered above, its body black as charcoal, definite even in the dark of night. The massive dragon emitted a powerful roar, echoing the howls of the ghoul puppets below. The shriek rattled through my bones, and I found my eyes unable to peel off the image from hell as Whiplash continued to make an effort away from the chaos. Even with the terrifying noises behind her, the mare continued on, powerful legs scurrying and kicking up white snow.

The dragon's wings opened to full span, tattered and dead like the rest of its body, and the dragon hovered in midair, reeling back right above us. The force of the beast's movement was strong enough to shift the wind. A strong gust blew past us just as the Scourge grew close enough to reach out to us.

Two things happened in effect—I growled, one hand reaching for my main dagger while the other hand grasped the reigns, and Whiplash, already skittish from fright, had a slip in her bearings. Her body teetered forward, then back, body hitting the snow as she slipped down the bank hooves-first.

Somewhere along Whip's failure to remain on her feet, I had slipped out of the saddle, my body hurtling over Whiplash's bulky frame and sliding down the bank alongside the horse. My hands, now free of both my reigns and dagger, attempted to break the collision with the hardened sheet of snow, but it didn't prepare my body for the icy cold contact.

Whiplash scurried to her feet as we reached the bottom of the steep bank, but I could feel the presence of the enemies behind us as they grew even closer. Survival mode finally kicked into overdrive as my fear turned into anger. "_Go_!" I screamed at Whiplash, knowing I didn't have time to get on my feet, readjust the equipment, and throw myself into the saddle to make a getaway. She seemed to listen after a moment of hesitation. Pouncing, she disappeared southwest.

I could no longer outmaneuver them. The dragon's shriek echoed once more, and I was sure the damned creature was preparing to swoop down and claim another living victim.

My focus was no longer on anything except a final fight. My dagger had slipped out of my grasp during the fall, and if I was going to make one more stand against the mess of enemies…

Turning onto my belly I tried sprawling back up the bank on all fours in search of the weapon, and was greeted by the slew of Undead I knew were inevitable. There were definitely too many, but without a weapon, I couldn't make any use of myself.

A feline growl resounded behind me, even as my eyes lifted to stare, transfixed, at the dragon, flames puffing out of his mouth as it assessed its prey. "_Don't move, Grace_!"

I did as I was ordered. In my panic I still managed to recognize that heavy Draenei accent. I watched as an arrow, bright with magic, blew past my shoulder and buried into the chest of a ghoul. The arrow was followed by a wave of Light—it reached out like lightning to the group of Undead and then scorched the ground in a lively consecration.

The only feeling that coursed through my body, at that single point in time, was relief. Blizz sprang into action, claws extended as she hurtled over my form to pounce on the easiest Undead target.

I looked up in anxiousness. The compelling dragon had retreated for the moment, mass of black circling the action to get the optimum approach. Even with Vii's Light, Kae's arrow, and Blizz's claws, some ghouls still charged toward me.

Vii and Kae stepped forward, protecting my open body as I gathered my bearings. Vii's holy attacks lit the battle up in mock daylight. "You okay, roguette?" asked Vii, even as he struck a nearby Scourge with his mace. It resounded with a _crunch_.

The small protection was enough to get me on my feet. I struggled for balance—grace was never my strength—and breathed deep. "I'm great," I answered.

My main dagger was ahead of me, up the slope. And currently, there was at least one Undead thing in my way. It gurgled, incapable of real vocalization, as it moved in for an attack. A claw took a swipe at my face—I ducked appropriately, unsheathing my offhand dagger and giving the enemy a good stab into the chest. Unaccustomed to having an unarmed hand, I made a fist and established definite contact with the skull. The screech was accompanied by the sound of splitting bone as warm ooze covered both of my hands.

It was still dark, but I heard the body crumple to the snow. My dagger was now within sight and reach.

But the dragon had returned. Thankfully, the Horde hadn't been attacking us—they had been observing carefully. When the dragon approached, though, a foreign tongue rolled off a loud command, and the Horde beings were stringing arrows.

The ground numbers were dwindling—it allotted me the opportunity to again look up at the new enemy. The Undead dragon was now joined with another fire-breather—but this one was different. Even in the darkness I could make out the differences. The new dragon wasn't an enemy—without hesitation this lighter colored creature barreled into its counterpart, sending the pair into a tumble toward the ground. They fell together, tails and heads whirling indiscernibly as one whole—good and evil both spiraling to the earth.

I braced myself as they landed loudly, bodies kicking up white snow as they slid along. Even at impact the two clawed at each other, attempting to get a bite into the other. The archers stood at the ready, prepared to fire once given an opening.

Our hero dragon seemed to be handling the other fairly well, until the Scourge dragon pushed the foe into a nearby tree. The entire trunk snapped at the force, sending the new creature sprawling once more across the snow, this time without its counterpart.

With a hiss the black beast stood on its four claws—one alone could swat me across the continent—and with a running start took flight once more. The Horde opened fire into the air, leaving the dragon still present to swoon back onto its feet and limp toward its group.

Vii looked me over as the last of the remaining Scourge were destroyed. I was finally able to seize my dagger—it gleamed in the moonlight as I picked it out of the snow and put it away.

I looked around expectantly. "Grace?" asked Vii. "Are you okay?"

"Whiplash," I breathed.

"Grace…"

I whistled as loud as I could. The cold had dried my lips long ago, but I managed a small noise. I called her name, despite the presence of the Horde.

Vii shook his head, slinging his weapon over his shoulder and shifting toward the others. "Greetings from the Argent Dawn!" he began.

It was my fault Whiplash had fallen and fled. Her owner had thrust her into danger, and Whiplash was fast. She was probably getting familiar with Icecrown at the very moment.

"_Whiplash!_"

"My apologies for the rogue. She's new around these parts…"

Kae and Blizz stayed near me, even as the bushes along the path rustled. The young Draenei shrugged casually as Whiplash emerged from the vegetation, snorting loudly as a puff of air escaped her nose.

"She must like you," Kae explained. Relieved, I patted the mare on the neck, gloved fingers combing her mane as I finally breathed. "That, or she really enjoys the danger."

I snuggled into the horse's neck. "I'm sorry," I told Whiplash.

"You're telling the horse sorry?" prodded Vii as he approached us, mace back into its holster. The Horde members seemed to retreat. "After we saved your life?"

Kae grinned, a hand going to Blizz's soft ear as I pulled away in order to look at Vii properly. "How did you find me?" I asked. "Why did you follow?"

"You woke me up," Kae answered honestly. "I spotted you strutting down the hall, your eyes were glowing again. I woke up Vii when I realized you were leaving."

"My eyes…" I repeated breathlessly. Damn. Turns out this ability was becoming a bigger nuisance than originally planned.

"That's another thing, roguette," Vii insisted with slight curiosity. "Kae is concerned about these…episodes…of yours? I haven't been informed of these. And he may not be prying for explanations, but I will be."

I sighed loudly. This was the reason I fled in the first place. People were in danger—that included the two Draenei before me—and I didn't need a bunch of people meddling in to my business and playing hero! There was nothing they could do about my condition, and it would only cause alarm…

"It's a long story," I explained bluntly.

Vii folded his big, bulky arms. "Then I suggest you begin now."

The dilemma flashed in my head—tell or don't tell, truth versus lie, pros versus cons. There was a level of trust in question, and the matter of the dilemma wasn't actually of trusting, but in allowing such trust to exist. A baby could trust his mother when learning to walk, and it's the start of something wonderful, a bond. I had been pushing the thought of bonds aside.

But Vii saved my life without question. I owed him. That had to be somewhere in the rogue's honor code.

Now that my life wasn't in (direct) danger, I could calm down and think a bit more clearly. The Argent Dawn had to learn of the Lich King's progress—but if I told Vii, perhaps we could make a stronger effort to warn the Dawn.

"Fine. At the inn. You're going to want to be comfortable."

With a nod, Vii agreed. Their eleks were down further, across the path. So I turned to Whiplash, who waited patiently. "Someday, you'll look back on today," I began to tell my horse as I straightened out her bridle and saddle, "and wish you would have kept on running and never came back."

I hopped onto Whiplash's back and made our way back to the inn. The sky was still covered by nighttime's veil when we made it back.

The haste to make it to Icecrown still lingered—any self control not working toward keeping me out of the Lich King's consciousness was now expended to keep me from taking of Northwest. I kept repeating to myself that Vii had to know, that it would benefit my cause.

The tavern had been closed down long ago for the night, but that didn't deter Vii as Kae and I followed him into the now unpopulated room. The Draenei's bulky arms picked up a few chairs that had been resting atop the table and flipped them over onto the floor. With determination Vii motioned for me to sit in one of them.

It was Vii, Kae, and me. The pair's domineering figures, the expectant glares, and the dark, quiet setting had me feeling interrogated.

"Okay, rogue," Vii began. "Explanation."

I rested my arms on the table. I was going to tell the two my secret affiliation with the enemy. But the approach…

I swallowed. "I said before that some attacks were close to home, in Stormwind. I had many missions concerning the Undead around my hometown. It was dangerous."

All of the necessary details, I explained. About how I came to this point in my career. About why I acted impulsively and why my eyes glowed. And why I truly was in Northrend, and why I took off.

Vii was engaged the entire time, asking questions and listening intently. At the end, he exhaled loudly. "So ridiculous, you can't be making it up. These visions…are serious, rogue." Vii stood, his 7 feet of bulk towering over me. "I'm afraid we have no time for rest after all. Kae, awaken Graystone. We must speak with Fordring at once."

"Fordring?" I repeated, standing with Kae. The auras of both Draenei now had an edge to them as the pair anticipated the outcome of my visions.

"Our commander. This news is game-changing. We must arrive as soon as possible."

I merely nodded. Quickly, everyone ascended the stairs to our rooms and packed up. In no time I was back outside, patting Whiplash as we waited on Graystone. When he did appear outside, following Kae, he still seemed half-asleep.

Vii read Graystone's agitated look before the Dwarf could vocalize it. "I know, friend—but something urgent has come up, and we must move on immediately."

"What sort 'o urgent?" asked the Dwarf as he prepared his steed. He eyed the three of us suspiciously, his gaze shifted quickly between our figures.

"There has been new information," Vii answered.

The orange-haired man grumbled under his breathe as he swung his leg over to mount his horse. "S'posed to be an informant, they said," he mumbled. "Find out all ye can, they said."

"Don't worry, Seargant," Vii announced as we took off out of the stables, "everything will be revealed when we arrive at the base. Until then, sit tight, my friend."

Graystone's figure wasn't visible to me as we began to increase our pace, but I could definitely make out the large bottle as the Dwarf took it out and managed an over-exaggerated swig.

It took until past dawn to make it to Icecrown. We weaved through many perilous paths and had to push through many obstacles, but we had finally made it. The wind had gotten chillier, with snow drifts every once in awhile making visibility a figment of imagination. With the snow blowing in from such harsh angles, it sometimes became difficult to see Whiplash as I rode her. Her white coat was lost in the snow, and the only thing I could then concentrate on was Graystone's fiery mane of hair ahead of me. My body was aching by the time we reached the Pinnacle, and exhaustion was beginning to set in, but the relief of arrival numbed it a bit. For even in the white haze of chaos, I could see the familiar silver banner strewn along the fort's walls.

The guards had spotted our figures through the snow as well. It may have been the two obtuse purple eleks Kae and Vii were atop, because once the guards identified the two Draenei, they nodded their permission to allow entrance.

"These two are with us as well, friend," Vii explained, and the guards asked no further questions.

Behind the fort's massive walls, the snow was incapable of reaching. Soldiers bearing the Argent Dawn's insignia bustled around. Everyone moved with efficiency—Humans, Dwarves, and Elves alike.

"We need to speak to the commander," I reminded Vii as I dismounted Whiplash and lead her to the stable. Thoughts had been churning in my head ever since we began to travel to the base. That last vision, short as it was, had left many things open for discussion.

Those men he had gotten a hold of were alive. Or were they? They certainly weren't Undead, I mused as I took Whiplash's reigns and attempted to tether her to the stable. She reeled back in defiance.

If those three were alive, then there was still a chance that Aurelia was right—Lucas had been captured and kept alive. But why? And for what purpose?

And if they weren't alive, why were they so _alive looking_? So weak, with human traits of defeat and anger and worry?

Could the Lich King be taking our Humans and other races, and brainwashing them to do his bidding?

I gave up in trying to tether Whiplash. I left her there as I turned to Vii. He broke the silence first. "I'll have to report to him immediately anyway. You'll join me."

Was it me, or did Vii actually seem very concerned about the new information I had bestowed upon him?

I had taken two steps when I suddenly swayed, my vision blurring slightly as the images before me sloshed into a new setting. Smudges of figures now greeted my sight, and I immediately knew where I had gone. For once, I resisted the urge to slip; my feet planted firmly into the ground of reality, where I grew determined to stay. I had to speak to Fordring immediately.

It didn't take much effort to recognize the images before me. Blue, piercing eyes graced the faces of a handful of soldiers.

No.

It took a recognizable amount of strength, but I was sucked back into my own world with a dramatic _whoosh. _To my surprise, I was still standing, now stumbling forward with the momentum of the shift.

There was a nearly bone-shattering grip on both of my arms. When I blinked so hard I saw stars, I could finally see Vii and Kae beside me, their huge hands locked on my upper arms.

I caught my breath as Vii looked on in amazement. "I told you they glowed purple," Kae muttered stiffly.

"Now," I managed to force through my teeth. "I have to see Fordring immediately."

I was more exhausted than normal. My energy had been expelled with the effort, and while I was relieved I had managed to ward off the slip of consciousness, I was also concerned about the effort. Things were changing about my ability.

"Of course," Vii acknowledged. The pair of Draenei loosened their grips on my arms, but Vii kept a hand on the small of my back. Truly, I didn't mind. My body was tired.

The wind grew stronger further up the incline as we traveled toward Fordring. I swallowed with difficulty as I rehearsed what I'd say. The words reorganized themselves at least a thousand times before we reached the tent the general stood within. He crouched over a large map with others, concerned determination in his eyes. Gray hair painted his scalp and face and acted as a testament to his skill and age. Darker bags were beginning to form under his eyes. He seemed so real and Human, his nose painted pink in the frost as wrinkles lined his face and explained far more than words ever could. I grew so determined then—he was as Human as I, as concerned with the war and its impact as I was. He was only Human.

Fordring sensed us approach and, as he stood up straight to receive us, his eyes locked on mine.

And I blanked.

"Viishunari, Kaethorr. News for me?"

"Of course, General." Vii bowed before his Human superior, even as I stood there searching for the words I thought I had grasped. "Actually, there is a very important…finding…that has come up."

Vii first introduced Graystone. I wasn't focused on the matter—I had grown too reoccupied with my jumble of thoughts I had to get out.

"And General Fordring, this is Grace."

"Grace?"

I bowed stiffly. "Grace Fulstorm, general."

Fordring's curiosity perked, his chin tilting so he could properly look me over. "Grace has a few things to…discuss with you," Vii explained, sounding tentative. "Very important business."

"Important business?" Fordring's eyes landed on me once again, and I found myself wishing Zen was beside me for support.

"I think I have some information you'll find…of use," I declared carefully.

"Of use to me?" Fordring asked with a cock of his head. "You've traveled all the way to my base to give me a piece of…_important_ information?"

"I'm here for an assortment of reasons," I retorted as carefully as possible. Fordring's eyes slid to Vii, who shrugged his large plate shoulders. The general was amused, to say the least, and so he'd let me speak.

It wasn't the first time a superior overlooked my insight. With two words he dared me to continue: "Go on."

"I know some of your men have been mysteriously disappearing," I began. I hadn't really known for certain of how this information benefited me—but the general dropped his bemused expression, immediately telling me the notion had hit a nerve.

"How did you hear of these allegations?"

Taking a deep breath, I tried to act as calmly as possible. "I've…seen it," I answered unclearly. "I can…see things…in ways no one else can, and…"

"General Fordring!" A familiar aura singed at my senses, darker compared to the auras of paladins surrounding me. The familiarity was a bit of a shock, and it sent a warm shot of hope through my spine. "General, one of our paladins thought it'd be cute to place a seal on the outhouse _again_ and now—Grace?"

I smiled at the arrival of the fellow rogue, even as the others took in Taellor's tall, lean figure. His blue pallor seemed so sickly against the white backdrop. "In the flesh," I replied lightly.

"Taellor, you know Miss Fulstorm?" asked Fordring with a tinge of stern earnest.

Taellor paused only a moment, assessing whether or not he'd be in trouble if he answered honestly. "Yes, General. Grace and I both fought at the attack on the Eastern Plague Lands."

"Fought? Where are you from, Grace?"

"I'm a rogue. I was based in Stormwind."

"Do you have your identification?"

"No. I left it behind. I left on…difficult terms."

Fordring grimaced. "Well, you certainly won't be the last to do such around here."

Taellor, being a rogue, hid his eagerness well. But his aura had spiked with interest at my arrival, a million questions for me probably on the tip of his tongue. To respect his superior, Taellor pulled back the urge to question me.

I tried focusing as well. My attention span was being tugged multiple ways, but one thing mattered most. "I've come from Stormwind, General. I'm a blood sister to Lucas Fulstorm. Please tell me that name rings a bell."

"Fulstorm?" Fordring took a breath before again looking me over. "Lucas was a respectful lieutenant."

"He disappeared in battle," I reminded him, gaining a look of question from Fordring himself. "I'm here to find him. I want to help you investigate the strange disappearances…but that's not all. There's danger brewing in Northrend, I've _seen _it…"

Fordring was shaking his head. "_How _can you walk in here, claiming….what…_how _have you seen it?" he finally asked.

I smirked, realizing the general's slight air of arrogance was cracking with befuddlement.

"She has a nickname, you know," began Taellor, who read Fordring's moment of confusion as well. "Back in the Eastern Plaguelands, the men started calling her the girl with eyes of violet."

Again with the eyes! I perked an eyebrow at the new information. The men couldn't be any more creative than that?

Fordring perked an eyebrow as well as he turned fully toward Taellor. "And how is this of interest to us?"

"She practically called the battle that day, General. She sees the Lich King's moves." At such preposterous information, Fordring turned back to the female rogue in question. A silence engulfed the small tent as everyone revisited Taellor's claim. I wasn't quite sure if I had wanted to reveal my deep secret—after all, it was definitely not normal, and any affiliation with the enemy was cause for suspicion. And here I was, little female rogue, a deserter of her own class who traveled to _Northrend_, of all places…

"Care to explain, Ms. Fulstorm?" Fordring asked with a spark of curiosity. I felt everyone's attention on me now—Vii's aura shifted to something of dread, and Taellor was crooning to explain.

"Where to start," I grumbled. "I was a rogue in Stormwind. Even so far away, we came upon hordes of Undead. I was constantly battling wretched bodies of the Scourge. During my training one eventually bit into me." I turned my head the slightest, pulling down my layers of clothing enough to bear my purple scar.

General Fordring's aura flared to caution and unease as he shifted back the slightest. Sighing, I covered the scar back up. "I am _not _one of them," I stated sternly. "A rogue healer in SI:7, named Brae, had concocted some sort of antidote, and I recovered completely. But later, an Undead warlock named Clad used a super potion on my skin in the name of the Scourge. Even though Brae was also able to reverse the process that _would _have made me a puppet to that filth, it came with some side effects. I can see what the Lich King sees. I can hear his thoughts; see his moves as if I'm him."

There was another pause, and then Fordring recovered enough to speak. "Let's continue this somewhere more private. All of you. I want a full report on each and every one of you."

Taellor, Vii, Kae, Graystone (who now scribbled on parchment like mad), and I were led to Fordring's private tent.

Once the flap of _this _tent was closed, Fordring turned to the group of us with a brisk movement. At first, for a hair of a moment, there was a thick, tense concentration of silence. None of the officers dared to begin.

"I'm leading a forefront attack on the Lich King. Arthas killed his own people, killed his own father for gain, and is now a necrotic ruler that is attempting to sweep this land clean of the living. All of you know his power. You know of his potential. How…how did this girl's…ability…go unannounced to me."

Another slight pause as everyone, including me, debated on whether to plead their case. "With all due respect, General," began Taellor, "Grace was in the Eastern Kingdom. And most of us—the few that actually knew of her ability—were unaware of the true capabilities she possessed."

"Vii. Did you know of her talent?"

"Yes, General Fordring," he replied in his accent. "As soon as I heard of her visions, I made an immediate decision to get here as quick as possible." His large figure was bent awkwardly in the tent about a foot too short for his race.

"Grace." General Fordring paused, wetting his lips as if preparing his mouth to speak. "Miss Fulstorm. Please—a detailed account of what is going on."

I held back the urge to purse my lips. This could take a while. But if it would convince him…

"I was trained as a rogue in Stormwind. As you probably know, the mess of Undead is strong…even close to home."

I continued. My life story, sparing a few feminine details that seemed irrelevant. Fordring wanted detailed details—who trained me, where, how long, how I escaped undeath _twice_. And how the process actually felt.

"I healed properly. I'm not Undead. But it came with side effects. I have a connection to Arthas now."

"He's not Arthas," Fordring articulated. "He's more dangerous. The Lich King."

"Right," I murmured. "I can assure you, General, my connection to the Lich King hasn't altered my loyalty. I belong to the Alliance, and I intend to use this ability to _our _advantage." Fordring nodded, still deep in thought. "I'd rather be _dead_," I stated clearly. "I'd choose death over undeath. You don't have to worry about my loyalties. I want to aid the Argent Dawn in this fight, but I need something in return. I must find out what has been done to my brother, Lucas. And to the other officers that disappeared. I _know _these disappearances have been bothering you." I didn't look away as Fordring's gaze lifted from the floor to my eyes, though he masked his feelings well. "I can feel it in your aura."

It was again silent. It reminded me of the many times of denial and doubt I had experienced with superiors. When I had expressed concern to the King himself, he turned his back after a patronizing silence. My teacher Zen, who was convinced I was irrational. And Officer Jared, who had refused to acknowledge the importance and delicacy of my situation.

Every crooning silence before this one could have foreshadowed the foreboding failure I was convinced awaited me. I was far too familiar with lingering silence.

"Okay, Miss Fulstorm," Fordring finally announced. "We shall help you investigate these disappearances in exchange for your…input. But we play by my rules."

My heart—it was still beating despite my irrational self—jumped up into my throat, and once again the inability to speak consumed me.

* * *

3ritti


	16. Knight, Pt 2

Yay, we love updates! Thanks to those who continue to read =] And I just wanted to announce, I don't own World of Warcraft, and if any of the dialogue I use in my story is from the actual gaming experience, I don't own that either =]

And a random question y'all can answer in a review or message: What part of Grace's past has been the hardest memory for her? GO NOW!

**Knight**

**Book Eight, Part Two**

There were a few rules I had to play by. I had to be assessed physically as well as mentally, for starters. I saw a medic right away. The man inspected everything—my skin, bone structure, tolerance to pain, pupil response, reaction time, reflexes, and every wound I had acquired throughout my career. Once I cleared physical inspection, Fordring sent me to a priest.

Rogues aren't fond of priests, to say the least. I had never bothered to become familiar with the cloth wearing Light lovers, but as I walked into the priest's tent, I presumed now was an opportune time to learn.

His name was Gregor. He was fairly young Human, though his age did surpass my own and his talent for the Light definitely showed. It made his aura almost glow, and I felt as if my dark, ominous aura would be swallowed by his own. Gregor, who had golden, angel-like hair, wore his robes proudly as he asked me senseless questions and used other holy techniques that baffled me. He asked me how the crossovers happened, what seemed to trigger them, how the 'affliction' (his choice of words) had progressed. He asked how I felt when I crossed, and seemed somewhat concerned when I answered him honestly. "I…I seem to pick up his characteristics. Sometimes I feel like I _am _him, other times it isn't as strong an urge. But I feel…cold. Cold blooded. And with my relocation to Northrend, the feelings seem to get stronger. The connection feels stronger."

Gregor scribbled furiously with his quill, golden eyebrows clenched with concern. Biting my lip, I considered momentarily if telling the whole truth would be detrimental to my position.

But he carried on the conversational interview. Gregor seemed very interested in my predicament, and he did have a charming smile. His flirtatious demeanor actually had me curious as well.

Gregor finished the interview with a heavy exhale, shoulders shrugging. "Well Grace, you seem normal to me. As normal as a rogue that reads the Lich King's thoughts could be, I mean."

I cocked a smile. "I could have told you that, Father Gregor."

He winced. "Father. Makes me sound old." His eyes gleamed with charm as he looked me over in his seat.

"Pardon my curiosity, Gregor, but…don't priests take a vow of celibacy?"

The question didn't seem to surprise the priest as much as I thought it would. He even emitted a small chuckle of amusement that sounded much like a musical wind chime. "Celibacy. A common misconception we shadow priests bear. It used to be that all priests had to vow celibacy, yes, but times are changing, and so are the men—and women—that become priests. Our vows are much like a paladin's vow of chivalry, but there's nothing specific such as celibacy. Our priests take vows to the Light, it's true, but it doesn't mean we can't have our…pleasantries."

I couldn't help but smirk. "I suppose I learn something new every day."

Another chuckle as Gregor leaned back in his chair, eyes still gleaming. "Grace, my lady, you certainly have a certain charm to you."

For a moment, I paused, hesitant as Gregor's aura actually spiked with something near arousal. The priest looked over my form once more before I tried to open my mouth to speak once again.

"Grace?" Taellor's head peaked into the tent, eyes landing on the scene with a precise scowl. "Fordring requests your presence."

Nodding, I gave Gregor a final smile before standing quickly. "Thank you for the meeting, Father. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

Gregor scribbled on a piece of parchment before standing up as he spoke, "I'm always here, Grace." He held out the parchment, and Taellor quickly came to my side and snatched it. I barely caught a look of animosity from both men as Taellor retreated out of the hut. With a slight bow I followed the fellow rogue out of the tent, still baffled over Gregor's obvious interest in me.

"That's one of Fordring's prime priest," surmised Taellor with a shake of his head. "You really shouldn't get involved with that man. Besides, what would Fordring think? Better yet, what would Zing think?"

I scowled. "It's _Zen_. And his opinion doesn't matter halfway across the globe. And I'm not here to make lovers out of the soldiers, Taellor," I grumbled. "I'm on a mission."

Taellor shook his head as we trudged onward to Fordring's tent. "You people are still Human, I'm afraid. With sex drives like every other commoner."

I couldn't help but giggle. "Taellor! You can't lecture to me about sex drive! You _cannot _say Night Elves are incapable of having one, too!"

Taellor's usual low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "That is…a totally different subject."

"Because you're a rogue?" I pressed playfully. "Or because I'm a female?"

Smirking, Taellor stepped aside, a lanky arm motioning me forward into Fordring's tent. "All of the above. After you, Grace."

Fordring was alone, save for another soldier that stood above his shoulder. They seemed to be hovering over a map, the other man making brisk sweeps across the parchment. At our arrival, both men looked up expectantly. "Miss Fulstorm," acknowledged General Fordring. With a mutual nod the unnamed man fell back, leaving the tent with a quiet but respectful bow.

"General." I bowed for effect.

Taellor silently glided over to Fordring, handing him Gregor's parchment. With fluid like movement Tirion opened the paper, reading it over quickly and nodding. "My men seem to have cleared you." He paused, and a short, brief smile even pulled at the corner of his lips. "Welcome to our crusade, my lady."

"I hope to be a benefit," I said. "The Lich King must pay. And Lucas must be found."

"I understand your passion for the subject, Grace. Taellor here will be your mentor of sorts. He'll show you around, get you acquainted. These," Fordring pulled out a piece of cloth with an emblem atop it, "are your Argent Dawn tabard and insignia."

I didn't hesitate in wearing the new equipment. It was all too familiar, even though the pretty blue now decorating my armor and the pin differed from SI:7's. The more things changed, the more they remained the same.

"One more thing, soldier," Fordring mentioned as he folded his bulky hands atop his desk. "This spy ware of yours is not like anything our experts know. It's unpredictable. Therefore, I ask of full reports should you experience anything…out of the ordinary."

I sighed. Well, it was always changing and seemed to be strengthening by the moment, but I suppose it wasn't an irrational request. "Of course," I agreed.

"Report anything different to Taellor. He shall be your confidant. "

"Of course," I repeated.

I was dismissed that simply, left to explore my new base. Whiplash had been bathed, groomed, and even armored as a horse of the crusade.

"I figured you'd find it…uplifting," Kae acknowledged. "She seemed to enjoy it, at least."

Whiplash ninnied, tossing her mane as she pranced around the stables in front of the stations. Giggling, I couldn't help but realize that some things back home had hopped aboard with me. As unfamiliar as Icecrown's surroundings, the familiar bonds our people shared, that common spirit between us…it lingered.

And of course, now there was Taellor.

Glancing back at the Night Elf, who watched from the stable entrance, I cocked a smile. He was here, despite my attempt to escape the danger of friends. Taellor was just proof—my humanity hadn't quite completely lagged behind at Stormwind.

I stayed with Taellor in his tent. It was small, and my cot was crammed into one of the corners, but like Taellor said—"It was merely for sleeping," anyway.

Two days passed. I remained within the base, pacing back and forth as Taellor observed. "Ridiculous," I hissed. "Taellor, I need to act! Lucas is out there somewhere, and the longer I sit on my _ass-_"

"You're not sitting, you're pacing," commented the fellow rogue without hesitation. "And anyway, according to Fordring, we have no leads whatsoever. But he trusts your skills. He's waiting for any sort of lead."

"I know," I growled, fists clenching in agitation of the repetition. "It's just I can't…" I bit my lip. I wasn't sure how crossing over would fair, but telling Taellor wouldn't be beneficial.

"You just can't?" repeated Taellor, leaning in a tad. Damn his rogue training to hell; if I _ever_ got my hands on SI:7… "Grace."

I blinked, trying to bide time for excuses. "It's nothing," I muttered.

"Grace, you're supposed to report any happenings to me…"

"I know. It's your duty," I announced with my best Fordring impression.

"I'm concerned," Taellor said. "Not just as your council. As a friend."

There was that word again.

Huffing, I shrugged. There was no lying to a Night Elf rogue. "It has gotten stronger—even just in reaching Northrend, I feel the bond tighten." When Taellor remained silent in an effort to encourage me to continue, I sighed in exasperation. "Like…in Stormwind, it was difficult to slip in and easy to distinguish myself from him. I was able to train my body to better warp, and I could float back and forth without much worry. But with the elapsing time, and with the distance closing between the Lich King and I…" I sighed again. "It's too easy to slip in, and too difficult to separate me from him. If it worsens, I'm not sure how much it _can _worsen. I'm just afraid of…becoming one of them."

"It's a gamble. Can you…can you try and slip across? Willingly?"

"I can. It's a constant pull nowadays, and it's difficult to stay away. Somehow I fight it off."

"If you want to solve this mystery, Grace, we need you to try. If something new surmounts, we'll report it and react accordingly. We have experts and soldiers, Grace. You have support."

Exhaling softly, I finally nodded. "I suppose you're right, Taellor. That, or you're terribly persuading."

"Rogue." He shrugged nonchalantly, and for a moment I could have mistaken the Night Elf before me for a blond-haired, poised Human rogue named Zen.

"I'll do it." Another deep breath. I stopped pacing, instead opting to crawl into our humble abode and sit on my cot. "What's the harm."

Besides the possibility of losing the control, having the connection backfire, and consequently becoming one of the Lich King's mindless puppet things.

Yes. Besides that.

"Wish me luck."

"Rogues don't need luck. We're just good."

I had been trained as a rogue to prepare both mentally and physically for any possible outcome of a choice. But as I sat there under Taellor's watchful gaze, the centered mentality I had acquired over the months seemed inadequate. I had been fighting the pull ever since I reached Northrend, and now I was face to face with a dare.

Shutting my eyes closed, I relaxed, finally doing something I was conditioned to avoid—I gave in.

Once again, the transfer was easy. It was snowing outside, and the flakes flew by in blurs as I witnessed whatever the Lich King was witnessing.

_You think you can slip into my mind, girl, _he began immediately. _You know you're walking on thin ice, and yet you _dare_ to show up here._

There were the soldiers again. Dozens of them lined up, blank faces as the Lich King paused to communicate with me.

_I can sense you, you filth, _he spat. _You're drawing closer._ _Soon you'll be just like the others._

_I'm different,_ I thought. The two words began to repeat themselves over and over in my head, and I didn't know if the Lich King could hear them or not.

_What is it that takes you here? _he asked. I knew he wasn't actually curious. The king of the lich was toying with me, simply allowing his maliciousness to crawl under my skin. _Would you like an update on how damned your people shall be?_

The soldiers in front of him began to unsheathe their blades—_all _of them. Each and every blade now glowed as their leaders did, blue like the surrounding ice.

_I have taken your weak, incompetent soldiers and bettered them. The living have no chance. _He straightened up, my view on the knights before me grew and I was now looking down on them. _All of you are fools to depend on the Light. Even the Light holds no match against the powers my soldiers possess!_

The closeness began to dissipate. It was as if I was being pushed out of the picture—the scene began to darken and the sounds began to fade. _Mark my words. The chapel will fall. The beginning of the end has come._

I sat up quickly, lightheaded as my mind rushed with the crossover. A curse may have fallen out of my lips as confusion and urgency controlled my entire body.

Taellor had been watching over me as I slipped into the other realm—he now leaned forward, true worry glinting in his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I stuttered. I managed to make steady eye contact with the Night Elf as his eyebrows furrowed in question. "But I need to speak to Fordring. There could be trouble."

Taellor followed me without asking anymore questions. My heart was pounding once more, but I remained as calm as possible as I reached Fordring's tent. At my arrival, the general stopped his shuffling and gave me the most earnest look imaginable. "News?"

"The chapel will fall. The beginning of the end has come," I recited.

Fordring's mouth parted open the slightest, his confusion slowly taking over his facial expression. "Excuse me?"

"That's his warning," I explained. "I crossed over. Just a moment ago. Those were his words. General Fordring, he has hundreds of his…puppet soldiers ready for a fight."

The general was speechless for a moment as he looked over both Taellor and I. "You spied? Overheard this?"

I grimaced. "Well, he actually told me…directly. The bond…it's getting stronger than I had anticipated. I must be…very careful while I'm in Northrend."

Nodding, General Fordring finally inhaled deeply. "Any warning of when?"

Shrugging, I attempted to think back to the vision. "None at all. But his numbers are increasing. It must be soon."

"The chapel. It must be in the Plaguelands that he speaks of…" Suddenly, Fordring was fumbling with different large pieces of parchment, the thick papers furling and sliding across his large desk until he found the one he had been searching for. A map of my home continent now graced the surface, and Fording pointed to the chapel I had actually been in at one point. "He plans on slaughtering our people…on our own holy land." I held my breath, afraid that Fording was concentrating and was too focused to interrupt. "He's trying to prove the fallibility of the Light."

"What are we to do?" asked Taellor.

"If we can, we must stop them before they reach the other continent," Fordring explained.

"He's still on Northrend," I added. "I could definitely see the surroundings. We could have a chance at stopping the attack here."

The older man nodded, his gaze still absent-mindedly on the location where the chapel sat peacefully. For a moment, he seemed unsure, and I took the moment to step closer. "I can help, General," I murmured carefully. "If I can continue to visit his side of consciousness…I know more of his location and whereabouts than anyone else."

"You said yourself it's too dangerous," Fordring interjected.

"I'm willing to take the chance," I said dismissively. "And this mission can also allow me to search for my missing brother…." For a moment, I felt ill at ease. The Lich King was gathering followers, turning soldiers into his playthings, and my brother was missing… "I just _have _to be out there," I finished.

Taellor's aura was growing uneasy as Fordring thought of my proposal and actually considered it. "Fine," he stated, and Taellor's aura spiked with worry. "I have a few men who may have a beginning route for you to take. They only have educated guesses, but it's better than nothing. I'll have to speak with them immediately. And Grace, you cannot go alone. I'll have to establish a troop…"

"Excuse me, sir, but I _am _Grace's guardian as she…adjusts," Taellor announced quickly. "I think it would be appropriate if I joined in the exhibition."

Fording nodded. "A pity that my base would be missing your talent, Taellor, but perhaps that's for the best."

So, Taellor insisted on going. And, my 'experts' were none other than Vii and Kae. Perhaps that was for the best, considering they were already well informed of my gift and style. Of course, wherever Vii and Kae went, Graystone followed. As an added safety (to perhaps my own humanity), Fordring also assigned Gregor the priest.

And that was it. Only five of us; but perhaps that was for the better—I didn't necessarily want to draw attention with a full-blown troop.

I had to find Lucas. I was ready to go in no time, and the others were ready close after.

"I hope you are prepared for the worst," Vii told me as we mounted and began our journey.

Shrugging, my mind wandered to the pair of daggers dangling at my hips. "I'm fairly certain my training and hundreds of SI:7 missions have qualified me to handle the Scourge."

"It's not just the Scourge you have to worry about, girl," Vii explained. "It's the elements. There's a storm rolling in."

I rolled by eyes. Snow. On a northern continent. A surprise, indeed. And I did _not _have time for qualms over a bit of snowfall when the Lich King himself had just dared me to move. "Where do we begin?" I asked Vii as we began our trudge through spotless snow.

"Would you like to investigate the areas of attacks," Vii began, "or do you want to start fresh?"

Inhaling, I scanned the horizon as if it'd give me exhales. I exhaled.

He was out there somewhere. And he may have my brother. I didn't have a clue about the land's geography—I didn't even know the size of Northrend! Just how vast was this land exactly, and how close was the Lich King if he's been kidnapping our—

"Little rogue." My eyes turned from the bright orange horizon and landed on Vii. "Do your human ears pick up any trace of sound?"

Again I was rolling my eyes as my thick gloves gripped the leather of Whiplash's reigns. She skittered at the sensation, head bucking and hair tussled. "Sorry. Go on," I mumbled.

Vii sighed. "Fordring gave me the coordinates to the location where Lieutenant Fulstorm disappeared," he revealed. "If we-"

"We'll head that direction," I insisted, stopping Vii mid-sentence and receiving a cross look for doing so.

Vii's lips tightened, though I doubt it was in reaction to the gust of icy wind. "I assumed you'd wish that. However, I'll advise you by saying that the snowstorm will be swooping that direction. We may receive the brunt of it."

It was silent. Taellor's aura was on edge-not out of fear, but more earnest. Was he looking for adventure? Graystone's was noticeably different; it screamed of annoyance and expectation. Well, good thing I wasn't here to make friends.

I didn't want to put anyone in danger, regardless of how well liked I was. But…

"But if Lucas…if Lieutenant Fulstorm's disappearance was recorded there, and it was one of the most recent vanishings, then it's our warmest trail we have to follow. It's the best link we have to the Lich King…"

"Except you," minded Taellor.

Vii sighed, and then nodded his recognition. "It's no surprise that we tread this path. Let us begin."

Taellor, mounted on a horse instead of his usual saber, now traveled beside me as Vii and Kae led the way. "Good ol' Vii," he muttered. "Always the optimistic sunshine."

"I can hear you, elf," Vii hollered from his perch atop his elek.

Taellor chuckled in his usual low rumble. "If his Undead senses were as good as his hearing, he'd be a decent paladin."

"Elf," Vii growled.

I giggled myself. It was a genuine form of amusement. The most I'd had for a while, at least.

It felt wrong. It almost hurt. I couldn't let my mind wander off—each moment the desire to cross was a pressure at the back of my skull, a dead throbbing like a knock.

We traveled onward, stopping minimally for rests. I didn't care much to pay attention to direction or locale—I hardly knew the territory in the first place. Besides, it made it easier to focus on the irritating sensation to cross over.

It was as if he was beckoning me. Was the borderline between us becoming brittle? Was he becoming stronger after all?

Was I becoming weaker?

Each time we stopped, Taellor's concerned eyes would scrutinize me. He was a rogue—a good detector of auras, as well as a master of masking his own. But my skills were more heightened. His concern was slipping through his attempts to hide them.

As it drew closer to nighttime, the cold began to grow crisper. The wind began to push harder, the skin on my cheeks feeling like melting fire. My nose was running and my lips were dry and cracked, and my body was beginning to tremor. I knew it would only get worse as the sun slipped further below the horizon, and it was becoming a huge dread.

"I think I can hear roguette's teeth chattering from here," Vii said.

"Roguette?" I repeated with a grumble. "Sounds like a pest."

"How do you think we came up with it?" called Vii. Graystone chuckled, causing me to slouch in my seat and concentrate on something elsewhere. Whiplash's head was lowered in defiance as she struggled with the wind's banter.

I wasn't worried about Whiplash. She was weathered, after all. Unlike her Human owner.

We came up to a huge gradual slope that towered over us. It went to probably ankle-deep to knee depth in little distance. Whiplash bucked in surprise as her belly grazed the white snow.

It was packed against the hill, and seemed to get worse further ahead. I was about to suggest we pull back and move around when Vii interrupted me: "This looks promising. We'll sleep here tonight!"

Confused, I looked amongst the others for some sort of clarification. No one seemed surprised. It must have been a Northrend thing.

Vii nodded toward Kae, and with that his nephew hopped off his mount, bow and arrow in his hand. Blizz launched her small body out of the snow, leaping behind her master in an attempt to both keep out of the wet surface and keep up with her master.

Kae took his stance, then drew an arrow as I watched in perplexity. Before I could question his actions, Kae aimed his arrow at the bank. The tip of the arrow began to glow green and expand and brighten. Finally, the arrow was released, shooting a green frenzy toward the slope.

When it hit the white surface, the green exploded into small crystals that ate away at the snow and causing it to melt on contact, creating a gaping crater within the slope.

I shrugged, even as the others began to move toward the hole. I suppose if you can't find a place to sleep, you make one.

Vii made sure the snow wasn't in danger of caving before we could enter our makeshift shelter. It was a large shelter—big enough for the bunch of us to sleep.

It was decided that Gregor would keep watch while we slept first, followed by Taellor until morning. I offered to remain awake as well, due to my knack for sensing Undead. But Taellor would have none of it—something about putting a strain on my mental state.

It was warmer in the small cave. The exhaustion of the day's travels had finally caught up to me. I had brought my small portable cot inside, and as soon as it was unrolled I laid down in relief.

Everyone else settled in as well, and it wasn't long before I felt a large, furry mass collapse right beside me. Looking over my shoulder I found Blizz's figure curled up next to me. She purred, nuzzling my shoulder as if telling me to sleep. Her fur and body mass helped keep me warm.

Taellor unfurled his cot next to me. "Getting warm?" he asked softly. I managed a small nod as I smiled.

Dennis' laughter chimed through the hot summer air as he deflected one of Lucas' attacks. The two wooden swords smacked together with a _crack. _Lucas growled in frustration—even during a playful spar, Lucas always craved victory. But Dennis shrugged, blocking Lucas' next two attacks.

I was a little younger back then. I giggled as Dennis lunged, but Lucas stepped back and effectively caused his best friend to fall forward off balance.

"Surrender!" Lucas announced in his best Alliance voice.

"I'd rather die!" retorted Dennis in his typical noble-like manner.

It was like I had blinked within my dream. One moment, I was under the warm summer sun, reunited with my best friends. And the next moment, I was watching behind a holy shield as Dennis prepared to defend my departure against hundreds of Undead.

The clarity in his eyes was unmatchable. He smiled one last time, my forehead still warm where he had placed his kiss.

Another flash. Lucas handed me my birthday present, grinning smugly. It was shortly after he gave me cherished advice: "Follow your heart."

Shades of blue were beginning to seep through the memories, infiltrating my dreams.

I submerged as I awoke, my eyes snapping open faster than my brain could process. My whole body was now hot with sweat. Somehow I had managed to slip out of what could only have been the Lich King's grasp.

Except now I was even more vulnerable. My memory was doing flips and back-flips, and I was growing more and more conscientious that my inability to focus could toss me back into the hands of the Lich King.

Weakly I sat up, my breaths short and shallow as I tried not to panic. I couldn't lose focus and lose the tug of war. If I slipped away now, I may never be able to come back…

"Grace?" The single word was soothing and it was bathed in an aura of protectiveness and worry.

Instinctively my thoughts went to Zen, of his knack for pushing the right buttons. How he could fire me up like no other and get me fighting, and the next moment have me completely speechless, taken aback and tranquilized.

I craved his attention. His embrace, his touch—just his presence. But I knew it wasn't possible for the aura and voice with me to belong to Zen. He was a continent away, and I was left to suffer for the choice I made to leave his side.

Taellor was sitting up as well now, his eyes glowing in the darkness with concern. Hesitantly, his long hands went to rub my back as I clenched my eyes shut in concentration. "Bad dream?" he asked.

I nodded. It was all a bad dream. Everything around me, and I couldn't escape it. "The bond…is getting worse," I whispered. "Even my dreams…I'm afraid even my dreams aren't safe."

I felt Taellor's aura darken at the news. Finally, he exhaled in frustration. "I wish we knew more about this. Knew its nature, how it progresses…"

My mind eventually calmed down, but another small thought was now taking the place of the chaos. That I missed Zen. Quite terribly. And that the worst of it was that I had done this to myself.

But I had followed my heart when I made the decision. It was the best for everyone.

I'm not sure if I slept any more the rest of the night. I didn't enjoy the feeling of fear. It had come to being afraid of sleeping—and I was dreading it would only get worse.

Before I knew it, Taellor was stumbling out of his comfy cocoon to do his patrol duties, and a tired and haggard Gregor fumbled in.

Taellor tapped me on the shoulder gently, as if urging me to sleep as he left. I rolled over as Gregor now lay beside me, so my back was facing him. Still, his aura was beginning to pierce and warm up with interest and desire, and I could nearly feel his eyes on me as I regulated my breathing and urged myself to sleep; for seeing through the Lich King's eyes seemed like a more favorable option than having the feeling of Gregor staring at me.

We awoke, and I had difficulty discerning the time as we continued our journey. In fact, Kae had to inform me that it was approaching midday.

As we traveled, I could feel the awkwardness of our group worsened…if even possible. Graystone rarely made notes on progress—in fact, the only item he ever reached for on his mount was his silver flask. He took gulps often. Kae seemed perfectly content with remaining silent. Vii constantly chattered, remarking loud as always. Most remarks were insults in disguise.

Finally, Graystone emitted a strange, stifled chuckle, body racking in his mount as he looked around. "Hay, eye've got one. What does a priest, two rogues, a paladin, a hunter, and a warrior 'ave in common?" After a brief moment of silence, he chuckled again. "Nothing!" he answered.

Taellor sighed as the others rolled their eyes. "You need a lesson in history, Graystone," he informed simply.

"Ah, nay, elf. There's only two things a Dwarf needs. Booze and ladies!"

Kae shook his head in disbelief, a grin on his face. "Nature-boy has a point," Vii established. "We're all allies, after all."

Taellor's aura stiffened, his head cocking slightly toward Vii, and I knew there was now only trouble coming.

"Nature-boy, Draenei?" asked Taellor stiffly. "I'm curious to hear what kind of tales they told you on that spaceship of yours."

"We saw it for ourselves!" Vii countered, though not effectively. "The likes of you, prancing around and tending to the plants and trees!"

Taellor rolled his eyes. "Not all of us are prancing around, Draenei. You're thinking of druids. I'm a rogue, remember?"

Vii shrugged, and for awhile, the strange argument ceased.

I almost preferred the meaningless chatter. It kept my mind off the numbing cold.

And other thoughts.

Vii said it was roughly half a day travel left with fair weather—but the winds were picking up again, every so often gusting enough to throw my hood off or send a shiver across my body. In the dusting storms, visibility was a myth. For once, I was cursing my Human body. My bones felt frozen in place.

Every so often, the weather would calm down and let me sigh in relief. Before I could enjoy the feeling though, it would pick up again. We hit a drift near supper time, and without any food since we departed at noon, the exhaustion was beginning to set in.

Poor Whiplash was tired, her hooves unable to pick up out of the snow any more. She was dragging them when I finally decided to stride out of her saddle and give her some sort of relief.

I trudged onward at her side, and although Whiplash's body took the brunt of the wind, I was still left pulling myself through the snow that measured at my lower thigh.

"Grace," Taellor dismounted his own steed, admittedly more gracefully than I had. He landed next to me, inclining forward toward me as the wind caught his figure. "Wh-"

"She's tired," I explained. "We both are."

"You're going to catch pneumonia in the snow," Taellor explained. "Your body isn't capable of handling…"

"I've been through worse," I snapped. Honestly, I hadn't considered factors that far into the future—like the fact that the ice cold snow was now beginning to seep through my layers below my knee, a numbing tingle biting at my skin.

The Night Elf rolled his eyes. "Vii!"

"Yes, fellow scout?"

"Everyone's wearing thin. I think its best we rest for the night."

"Ah, elf, you never cease to amuse me!" Vii jested with a chuckle, not even batting an eye at Taellor's suggestion. "But now, we must consider setting camp for tonight. The storm seems to be picking up and everyone is looking tired."

Taellor's aura darkened—if I could feel it, Vii must have tasted it. Despite this, the two reflected none of their thoughts or feelings.

Kae did his fancy arrow move, again creating a nice cubby hold for the night, and Vii even melted a patch of snow so Whiplash and the other mounts could get out of the wet snow for a night.

"First things first—lookouts for the night," Vii mentioned as we settled into our shelter. "I'll gladly go first shift."

"I'll go," I offered loudly. "I can do it!"

"No, Grace," Taellor stated like a parent.

Angry, I turned to Taellor to again argue my case. This had happened the night before as well, and I already knew what his explanation was going to be before he opened his mouth. "You're too fragile right now. Mentally and physically. I think Gregor would agree with me when I insist you rest instead."

"But I won't be sleeping tonight _anyway_," I seethed.

"I'll take second shift," Taellor insisted simply. "You must try, Grace. And if you can't sleep…you can keep me company."

Kae and Vii worked on sealing the majority of the entrance as I tenderly took my gloves off. My skin felt on fire—I rubbed my hands together with a grimace.

"Ouch. Here, Grace." From his bag Taellor produced a small vial. "It'll soothe the itchy burning. And it's healthy-"

"Hey, elf-boy! Be careful opening your magic voodoo potions inside our shelter!"

Taellor deadpanned, disbelief taking over his expression. "It's hand cream," he stated monotonously. "Herbs and ointment. No voodoo required."

Vii huffed loudly, then taking his post outside. "I hate him," Taellor said. "If there was one person I could banish from the living, regardless of race, it could very well be _him_."

I scowled, debating on whether I could giggle. "Well, why'd you come then?"

The Night Elf looked up at me, handing me his bottle of cream. "To take care of you, of course," he responded without hesitation. I smiled.

* * *

Thanks!

Britti


	17. Lucas

I know ya'll missed me! Or, well...Grace. And Zen. And Taellor. =P

* * *

**Lucas**

**Book Nine, Part One**

The cream worked. So well that I applied it to my legs and feet, too. After I had finished, I begrudgingly laid down, knowing I wasn't going to be allowed the second shift. Again, Blizz curled up, her back a large, furry pillow against my back. "I know it's not likely, but if you're still cold," Taellor offered, "I have an extra blanket."

Graystone snored loudly—so loud, Blizz's purrs in my ear couldn't soothe them away. They would be fairly tolerable and steady for awhile, and then like a volcano waking up, the noise would rip through the night without an invitation.

I was forming a cold sweat down my back. It could have been from general dread, or from the sudden change in body temperature. Either way, it left me feeling uncomfortable.

And Gregor was still awake. He was gravely silent and still—but I read auras much easier than feelings, and his energy was telling me he was awake.

So with all of these distractions, how could a girl sleep? Not to mention the strange, scary situation I was caught up in with the Scourge.

It was a couple hours before Gregor was asleep. It took the edge off a little. Everyone except me remained asleep, until Taellor stirred awake.

He rolled in his cot so that he faced me, and I was then staring right into his eyes. "Not asleep?" he inquired softly.

"Not in the least," I answered.

"I assumed as much," he said. That was the funny thing I was learning about rogues. They liked to infer information, and usually their intuition is correct. Usually, they only asked for information out of common courtesy. Of course I hadn't slept—Taellor knew that before he had even rolled over to look at me. "How are you holding up?" he asked, pulling himself up to a sitting position. The cool colors of nighttime complemented his entire being perfectly. His lean, battle worn chest peeked out of the blanket, dark hair almost metallic looking as it fell in front of his shoulders. And his eyes, always glowing in the moonlight like a feline's…

"I-I'm fine," I responded poorly. "The circumstances could be better…"

"That's for certain," the elf grumbled, throwing a side glance out of the entrance.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with…that," I whispered carefully.

Taellor sighed. "The comments, I suppose I can handle. But if Gregor doesn't quit the shameless looks and lustful glances toward you, I may be sharpening my daggers with his bones in the near future."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed," I mentioned.

"His aura makes me gag," Taellor announced straight-forwardly. I chuckled a bit, smiling as Taellor grinned the slightest.

"But really, Taellor, I'm terribly glad and relieved you're here. I don't think I'd want anyone else here to…protect me, really…"

Taellor's face contorted in confusion. "And what of…Zen?"

Grimacing, I looked down. "I don't want him in danger. He was too close."

The Night Elf breathed quietly until he finally shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Um…" I swallowed audibly. How come I could explain my choices over and over to myself, and make is sound like I was justified, and now, in front of Taellor, I couldn't even find my words? "In life, there are things that matter," I tried to breathe, "and things that matter more."

"Zen didn't matter…as much?"

"No," I corrected, "Zen's…safety…mattered. His life mattered more to me…than my happiness."

Taellor paused, my words settling in between our sleeping cots. "We've all had to make sacrifices. I'm afraid, however, that yours are some of the heaviest sacrifice for our people, Grace. To not even have complete control over your mind…"

The crossovers. To this day, I still marvel at the complexity of my gift or curse…and I have yet to draw the thin line between its benefits and disadvantages.

I closed my eyes tight, exhaustion attempting to take control. "Grace?"

"Sorry, it's just…I haven't been able to…open up to anyone lately, it's…" A warmth streaked down my cheek, and when my hand went to investigate, I realized I was crying. "It's almost overwhelming." My head was starting to hurt again. Taellor's aura warmed with worry as I grabbed at my head. "I'm being emotional…I think it triggers my crossovers."

His long hand went to my own atop my head, his other hand feeling my forehead and then sliding down to rest at the base of my neck.

Taellor's touch felt familiar and foreign at the same time—my aura flared at the contact, a mix of unexplainable excitement and cautiousness traveling up my spine. I prayed to all that was holy he didn't catch the interest in my aura, but Taellor froze in place, suddenly on edge like a cat.

I panicked, my headache leaving me a bit scattered for an explanation. "Taellor, I-"

"Do you sense that?" he asked in a low growl. The dangerousness in his voice had me freeze all thoughts and movements as well.

My mind focused the slightest, even as I blinked away streaks of blue in my vision. I felt it now—the unmistakable omen of darkness.

"Undead…"

The group approaching reeked of the burning stench of Scourge. Taellor and I shared a look of understanding just as Vii came barreling into the cave, a look of determination masking his panic. "They come," he announced.

Taellor nodded, immediately turning to Gregor's still form and laying a good smack on the priest's shoulder. "Let's go, holy man. It's time for a fight!"

In a hurry I reached for my shoulder pads, the belt that attached them to my armor suddenly very difficult to fasten under pressure.

Graystone snored himself awake as Gregor and Taellor tried to ready themselves as well. "Fight?" Graystone barked, fumbling for his armor violently.

"I'm going to go out there," Vii announced quickly. "They were moving in fast, we must hurry."

"I'm coming." Gregor was ready, his clothed figure quickly following Vii outside despite his drowsy circumstances. His body swayed from the jolt awake, and his staff nearly knocked Graystone's pauldrons off during his exit.

"How many?" asked Taellor.

I shook my head. "More than a dozen."

"They feel tolerable." His daggers slid into their sheathes as Taellor spoke calmly.

"They've surprised me before," I growled, ready to spill some Undead blood.

"Hey." Taellor became a stern parent with the single word. "Be cautious out there."

"Taellor, if I was a cautious rogue most of my career, I would be a dead rogue by now," I insisted, finally dressed and ready for combat.

We stepped out of the snow bank, which was now breaking down and caving from the heavy traffic. The cold was normally a stinger in the daytime, and in the dead of the night, it was enough to cause loss of breath. Our group was at the ready, and our puffs for air were noticeable in the air as we waited.

The army of about twenty Undead beings were charging with a hurried pace, and most of them carried a weapon of choice. A few even held a shield.

Kae glanced at his Uncle. "Are these the Lich King's supposed knights?" he asked in bemusement.

"No," both Vii and I answered as I recalled what the favorites of the Lich King looked like—icy blue eyes aglow, with alarmingly life-like forms. "These are merely Undead shells with weapons," Vii explained.

Blizz was first to charge, her feral growl ripping past my ears. Taellor and Kae managed to knock a few over with mean arrows. Gregor forcefully stabbed his staff into the snow and began to chant in foreign tongues, hands crafting a brilliant ball of Light.

Graystone ran ahead, his axe swinging from shoulder to shoulder as the Dwarf grunted a loud roar. His blade swung quick for how heavy it was, and it effectively sliced and knocked three of the enemies to the ground. Vii conjured another of his consecrations just as the bodies hit the snow. The smell of burnt dead flesh met my nostrils as Taellor and I began our own battles. I was busy with a particular zombie who hid behind a shield as Taellor was approached by two others.

I couldn't break past the pesky shield, and the irritating skeleton continued to poke and prod at me with his sword as he remained protected. I was busy parrying one of his stabs and even managed to disarm him when the creature mustered enough strength to thrust his shield at me, the large object bashing into my chest and knocking me over. My dagger in my off hand slipped and fell to my feet, and breathless, I found myself trying to avoid another impact with the shield while also trying to find my weapon. Before I could register what happened, Blizz's gigantic form was pouncing on the solider, knocking his shield loose as her fangs sank into his raw neck.

And I would have grabbed my dagger then, except that a group of Undead was distracting me to my left. Fearfully, I realized Taellor was stuck amidst them. Mesmerized, I watched Taellor's graceful form as he remained calm. The being to his back he managed to knock over with his elbow, and his attention immediately turned to the other two in front of him. Painfully, I clenched my ribs as I tried to pull myself up, my eyes remaining on Taellor as he repeatedly blocked one attack in time to dodge another.

But the third attacker was back on his feet, and Taellor's daggers were locked in front of him. Whimpering, I made a split decision to grab the shield at my feet, my main dagger now sheathed so I could pull myself onto my feet.

I went sprawling to his aid, a pitiful growl slipping though my mouth that was meant to be a call to Taellor.

The shield was heavier than expected, but I managed to put myself between the Night Elf and Undead soldier in time to stop a blow with the massive shield. However, the sword forced my newly acquired buffer out of my hands and onto the ground, the screech of metal on metal ringing in my ears. Taellor turned at my presence, still busy with the other pair but now easily distracted by my racket.

Without the shield, I was able to draw my weapons and fight the monster, and to make it even better, I was open for attack. My hands quickly moved to my sheathes, but I only pulled out my main dagger, and it took me a moment to remember the weapon's counterpart was still behind me abandoned in the snow.

Taellor was still fighting behind me as the enemy swung his sword with maximum strength, perhaps hoping to reach Taellor's figure as well, and my undersized dagger was barely able to parry the blow—I was actually worried my blade would snap.

I wasn't accustomed to a naked off hand. The creature went to backhand me with his opposite appendage as well, our blades interlocked and forgotten, and its gleaming porcelain fingers were streaking across the space between us. I couldn't jump back—Taellor's fight was right behind me. Opting for the next outcome, I tried pulling my defenseless arm away from the line of fire, ribs burning at the hop, but it was too late. A muffled cry escaped my throat as the cut landed across my abdomen, where the leather was weakest. Even with the armor, the cut left a good scratch into my skin—I felt the tear of flesh and the unmistakable feeling of warm blood trickle from the wound. It stung a little bit, especially in the cold night, but I couldn't focus on that at the moment.

Two could play that dirty game—with a grunt I swung my fist as hard as I could, making contact on his jaw. It crunched under the impact, his body reeling back with the force. "I'll be feeling _that_ in the morning," I grumbled, shaking my hand in an attempt to rid of the throbbing in my knuckles. It felt like my whole body had taken a hard beating, but I couldn't stop now. As the monster stumbled backward, I freed my dagger and landed a good stab into his chest, being sure to push as deep as I could and turn the hilt. It oozed thick, coagulated blood as the Undead being staggered to the ground, finally lifeless in the snow.

Taellor had finished off one of his other opponents, leaving him with a one on one battle he could easily handle. I stooped a moment, catching my breath as I felt around my surroundings. Most of the Undead were now lifeless (for good this time), and we were no longer outnumbered. I used my arm to cover my abdomen as I dragged myself to the place I had lost my dagger; at first, I couldn't see it in the snow. The silver caught in the moonlight, however, and I had to hold my breath and hold back a moan as I bent over to pick the weapon up out of the snow.

When I turned back around to view the battle, almost everything had calmed down. Two monsters were left, and they were quickly rid of when Vii commanded a seal of Light upon their wretched bodies.

Smiling, Taellor surveyed our victory as well, probably checking for injuries just as everyone else was. Blizz's mouth was colored in red, but it was most likely not her _own_. Everyone else seemed unscathed as well, besides spatters of blood and the occasional bruise.

And then there was me, huffing and bleeding from a slash. Taellor turned to me finally, and his smile of relief slipped from his face. "Grace!"

"It's okay," I insisted, wincing as Taellor ran to my side and tried to move the arm that was covering my real injury.

Everyone else had now realized my condition, and now everyone was rushing to see my mess for themselves. "Is this from their claws?" asked Taellor, who gingerly tried to lift the armor off the affliction and received a cry of pain from me anyway.

"Yeah…I had to help you somehow," I defended.

Taellor growled, cringing as he looked it over. "Grace," he breathed.

"I think I bruised my ribs, too," I grumbled, "or cracked them. I can hardly breathe."

"You shouldn't have fought," Taellor mentioned, almost sounding as if he was chastising himself for my injury.

"It was fight or let you _die_," I growled. "Give me some credit."

Vii chuckled. "Roguette's a fighter, Taellor. Her aura says 'approach with caution'."

Taellor shrugged. "The most truthful statement you've stated thus far, Viishunari." I frowned, still in pain but interested in the fact that the one thing Vii and Taellor were agreeable upon was _me._ "Gregor, do you think maybe you could heal some of this?" asked Taellor.

Gregor approached, his staff without a touch of blood as he set it down beside me. "I may be able to cover the slashes, but my energy may not be well enough for the internal damage…"

"It's fine," I insisted yet again. "Gregor, if you could just…stop the bleeding. Some of the pain. I don't want anyone wasting more energy on me than needed."

"Chivalry has no room in a rogue's baggage," snipped Taellor, who kept the armor off my skin as Gregor inspected the bloody gashes further.

"What of the poisons?" asked Gregor. "They supposedly have very toxic effects…but I see no necrotizing of the skin or anything…"

I shook my head. "In my experience, I've never seen anyone catch the plague through contact with their claws. It's their bite. And anyway, I've been exposed to this toxin many times, Gregor. Perhaps I'm immune by now?" Gregor eyed me suspiciously, actually worrying me for a moment. Could he be trying to detect a sign of treachery within me? "I mean, I'm still myself. The poison isn't within me anymore, but it had been coursing through my veins at some point. Perhaps I've developed immunity."

"Perhaps," Gregor admitted. "We will keep a close eye on your wounds, Grace." With that statement, the priest hovered his hand over my stomach, again muttering exotic chants beneath his breathe as everyone watched. The warmth touched my abdomen, immediately soothing the scratches and stretching to cover the bloody mess. When his hand lifted, only a collection of large scars remained, still pink around the edges from the inflammation. "There."

"Much better," I sighed as Taellor pulled my armor back down carefully. It still hurt to breathe, but I could manage that without worrying about bleeding out.

"Do you suppose they were after me?" I asked with concern. I didn't hear the Lich King that time…no warning, no pull.

"I doubt it," Vii answered. "If he wanted the job done correctly, he would send stronger…things. Those stumbled on us by chance, without the Lich King pulling their strings or ordering our deaths."

"They were unruly; probably meant to simply roam Northrend and kill the living while raising the Undead," Taellor added.

"Good." I had feared perhaps the Lich King had found me, and that would have compromised everything I was working for.

"Let's move out," Vii insisted. "The stench will attract some uninvited guests."

After we packed, Taellor had to help me lift onto Whiplash's back, and it felt really uncomfortable atop the horse, but I swallowed the pain and trudged onward.

We tried to push the pace—Whiplash was a bit livelier, but it was still a couple hours until dawn and everyone was beyond exhaustion. I still hadn't slept at all, and my body was now fed up and punishing me for it.

"So, the Lich King is really working on a bunch of super-knights?"

"I've heard he calls them death knights," Vii responded. "The disappearances have been linked to the growing number of his new gladiators."

Vii might have said more, but I was now lost in thought. Of course, I had inferred all of this information before, but hearing the name death knight…it sent a feeling of chilling realization down my spine.

The disappearances. So Lucas could very well be under the Lich King's command.

All I knew was that I couldn't lose anyone else in my life.

If we traveled through the night non-stop, we'd make it to the camp by midday. I didn't know what we were to do once we arrived; at the moment I was more concerned with rest—the last thing I had wanted the past day, and now I wanted nothing else. Oh, how fate loved to torture me so.

About halfway, the snow morphed into formidable sheets of ice. Whether from natural or magical origin, it was a thorn in our side. Whiplash slipped, nearly hurting herself before I decided to dismount her.

Taellor and the others followed my lead shortly after. "Think it will melt?" asked Taellor, grasping his mount's reigns tightly as he looked the ice over.

"I could try, but the ice is thick—by the time I melt it, we could be across."

Taellor was the first to tread on the new surface, his lean figure tense as he attempted to get his bearings. His third step was shaky—Taellor had to halt his process, his rogue agility helping him remain on his two feet.

"You're slightly out of your element, I suppose, elf?" Vii asked the rogue with a chuckle.

Even from behind Taellor, I could tell his face fell as he grew rigid yet again. "Coming from the alien who fell out of the sky?" Taellor countered smoothly, his large ears pulled back in irritation.

"Ouch," I announced in a hum, causing Taellor to chuckle.

"Bets on the first ass hittin' the ice?" challenged Graystone, who charged onto the ice like a…well, big-headed warrior.

"If I had to bet, I'd say…_you_, Graystone," I answered.

Kae laughed, body turning to view the rest of us to his right. "Agreed."

"I don't know…Taellor's looking wobbly," called Gregor, who used his staff for balance as we treaded softly.

"I don't gamble," Taellor grumbled, even as he sat perched on top of the ice like a cat trying to stay out of water.

I managed to stay on my feet, but some others weren't as lucky. Namely Graystone, who landed with a smack while he took a long swig from his flask. Gregor and Vii boomed with laughter, the sound infectious and causing me to chuckle as well.

Everyone, in our sleep-deprived, adrenaline-filled, wary states, seemed jollier and easier to get along with. It was like we all had our own personal dose of whatever was in Graystone's canteen.

We mounted again, Whiplash finally able to walk normally, but the outrageousness of our group continued the remaining way.  
The sun rose, and the little warmth it came with arrived as well. I stayed hydrated, and had two snacks before we finally came upon the encampment. It was stuffed between two ridges, and a single structured building, held together by thin logs, sat lonely in the center. The rest of the camp was tents—large tents as well as smaller ones intended for use as sleeping quarters.

As we drew closer we also drew more attention. There didn't seem to be very much going on at the makeshift base—a dozen or so men were now gathered in front of the wooden building, curiosity keeping their eyes glued on our group.

Obviously, we appeared friend rather than foe—two Draeneis flanked by a pair of humans as well as a Dwarf and Night Elf were definitely an advertisement for the Alliance cause.

We walked our mounts into the base, Whiplash dragging her hooves. "I know, girl," I whispered, running my hand through her mane.

"Greetings, friends!" Vii called as we drew closer.

"We come in peace," mumbled Taellor sarcastically. I giggled a bit too loudly, and the force panged at my bruised ribs.

"State your business!" called the man in the center. He was very young and cautious as Vii approached to speak on our behalf. He was most likely another warrior, but my attention span was quickly waning as exhaustion controlled the movement of my body.

Vii explained our attack, even as I swayed on my feet in tiredness. Taellor had to brace me from behind to prevent me from collapsing and napping right there in the snow.

I couldn't pay attention. The next moment I recalled, Taellor was pulling me back, leading me into one of the small tents and grabbing my cot and blanket for me.

His nimble fingers lit a lantern to my side, and the warmth was becoming an invitation to sleep. "But I have to speak with…the man in charge!" I argued.

"Vii's taking care of it. So rest up."

"Taellor…"

"I'm going to help him, Grace. Then I'll come back to check up on you."

"Taellor." My hand grabbed his so he would stop fussing like a mother and actually listen to me for once. "You're beautiful," I announced with a bit of a slur.

The male Night Elf raised his eyebrows, lips pulled into a tight smirk. "Has Graystone spiked your water canteen?"

"Taellor," I growled, now barely able to keep my eyes open. "You've helped me so much, even when I didn't want the help. I didn't…think I'd ever be here…in this position…right now."

Taellor chuckled lightly in amusement. "Well, if that was a compliment, I'll take it. And I know you feel like you're being spread thin, but there are people here to support you, including me."

By then, my eyes wouldn't stay open any longer, and an array of dreamscapes was now filling my head as my imagination took me away.

"Sleep, Grace." Taellor's lips kissed my forehead, the touch just gentle enough that I wasn't sure if it was real or part of my dreams.

I rolled over as Taellor stood to leave. "Taellor?"

His aura spiked in curiosity once more. "Yes?"

"Do you think a Human and a Night Elf…could ever fall in love and…be able to have children?"

Taellor chuckled. "Someone _definitely_ needs their sleep."

"Just a…thought-provoking…thought."

"Goodnight, Grace…"

Sleep was pleasant. Perhaps it was how stress-free I had been prior to my slumber. It wouldn't last long—the stress of my life wasn't going to stay away for long. When I awoke, the wind was flapping at the tent's canvas, but it was still daylight. I sat up too fast—a stabbing pain shot through my lungs, and it hurt to gasp in pain. It always perplexed me: why do they tell you to sleep off injuries when you always wake up in worse shape?

With difficulty I steadied my breathing, and I contemplated if I should (or could) get up and try to find the others. But I couldn't just lay here. Especially if my brother was in trouble.

So with as deep of a breath I could muster, I leaned forward and painfully pulled my body up off the sleeping cot. Just standing on my two feet was leaving me out of breath.

Like an old man I hobbled toward the exit. Each movement hurt like hell, but if I concentrated on my feet, I could make it.

It was so close now. I reached forward, clambering for the flaps, when suddenly the cloth was pulled open, and in walked Gregor.

"Oh," I piped, caught off guard by his appearance.

Frowning, Gregor looked me over before finally locking eyes. "Grace, no need to be up and about. Please lay down!"

I nearly growled. "But Gregor, they need me! Taellor-"

I tried not to notice Gregor's aura shift at the mention of the fellow rogue. "Taellor is helping Vii as they brainstorm with the others. They're looking at different possible leads. Taellor sent me to check up on you."

"Oh…" Gregor took another step inside, causing me to retreat back. "Please, Grace—have a seat. Lay back. He wanted me to take a look at your wound."

As much as I would rather have had Taellor inspect the slice, Gregor was the specialist. With defeat I gingerly laid back down, eyeing Gregor as he approached.

My senses seemed…off. Something just wasn't right, and it was making me uneasy around the sandy-haired priest.

"Something bothering you?" Gregor asked as he cautiously knelt at the bedside.

"N…no. No, I'm fine. Just…tired," I lied.

"Ah. Now that's understandable. Has there been any changes in your state? With the Lich King?"

"You mean, has he gotten a hold of me? I'm fairly certain if he was controlling my mind…you'd be dead right now."

Gregor cleared his throat awkwardly, allowing me to fidget in frustration. I wanted to get out of here. "Any severe changes in mood?"

"No."

"Strange sensations? Burning, tingling, numbing…?"

"Nope."

"Change in temper?"

"Oh, it's getting there," I grumbled. I just wanted to find Taellor and Vii. And anyway, I would know if things were changing within me. I didn't need a priest to figure it out for me.

"Grace, we need your cooperation."

"You have it, Gregor. I need yours as well." Quickly I went to lift myself off the cot and hopefully dismiss the silly holy man, but his arm braced me and caused a slight pang around my abdomen. Growling, I slumped back onto the mattress.

Gregor nodded curtly. "Mind if I take a look at your wound first?"

Well, I did mind. A lot. But if it was going to keep Gregor from breathing down my neck, then fine. "Go ahead."

As I attempted to lay down as comfortable as possible, Gregor's hands raised the piece of my tunic covering the potentially fatal wound. His fingers traced the etches now patterned into my skin, his touch leaving an icy chill across my abdomen. Once again, the priest's aura was warming with interest, and even his eyes seemed…engaged.

My body stiffened as I sucked in a breath and quivered under his touch. "My apologies…my hands must be as cold as Northrend itself!" Gregor exclaimed, though his eyes were still focused on my stomach. I tried to ignore it when Gregor's hand traced my abdomen, lightly brushing my skin until his hand rested on my hipbone. And still, I didn't know how to react. I could read Gregor's aura—and, ultimately, his intentions—clearly. But my female self just didn't know how to react.

"It's a pity your body must be mutilated so much in battle," Gregor hummed. "This new scar, plus the bite mark…." His other hand went to trace the crescent shape along my neck.

Being a female rogue had its perks most of the time. I had a female/maternal instinct as well as an instinctual, animalistic rogue instinct. Most of the time, they fed off of each other. And sometimes, the two sides caused even more chaos with their different statics.

I tried to remain calm, but SI:7 never trained me for scenarios like this. With Gregor on top of me, there was definitely a different kind of danger I was stepping into. There was a part of me that actually _enjoyed_ the thought of intimacy…but with Gregor? Like this?

Before I could decipher my feelings, Gregor's mouth was hovering above my neck, his hot breath causing goosebumps. "I find myself…very drawn to you, Grace." As Gregor spoke, his lips grazed my skin, and my breathing rate increased.

"I..I don't…"

"Would you like me to show you?" he inquired, the hand at my hip tightening in grip as his mouth nipped above my bite mark.

"No," I announced, suddenly aware of the danger. I couldn't do this. Having Gregor's attention was flattering, but I knew I didn't want this for me. How could I go through this when my heart was somewhere else—probably roaming the Eastern Kingdom somewhere on special missions? "Gregor, I don't want…"

"How do you know unless you try?" he whispered, again biting at my neck. His hands locked me in place, one arm pinned to my hip as his other was planted by my face.

My female instincts knew what came next, and my rogue instincts knew if I didn't act, Gregor would continue to take advantage of me, and _that_ wasn't going to happen. Aradar had taught me well with his lessons in trust: nothing is black and white, bad or good to a rogue—and always value what your rogue instincts are guiding you towards.

And right now, my rogue instincts were telling me to put a stop to this before something happened that I would regret. "No," I growled, forcefully tugging my left hand away so that Gregor's body weight forced him nearly on top of me. With my right side momentarily free I was able to land a knee right into his groin. Gregor gasped, the wind knocked out of him for a few good moments. I had enough time to rock my body and his off the cot and onto the floor, my body finally free.

Growling at the incessant pain in my chest, I pinned Gregor's body to the floor and straddled him, his breath still arriving in gasps as he grimaced in pain. My right hand managed to find one of my daggers. The priest below me realized what I had grasped too late—the dagger was instantly pressed to his throat.

Forget the fact that I was just now almost taken terribly advantaged of—I was more concerned with the dimwit caught below my dagger. "Allow me to bestow upon you some valuable information," I began. "Just because I look weak doesn't mean I am," I growled, even though my lungs felt like they were to set on fire. "And most importantly, I'm _very _disappointed in you." My voice managed to calm the slightest, maybe since the action had dwindled and I could finally catch my breath and relax. "Just because other women and girls fall for your games doesn't mean I will. I actually respect you, Gregor. As a priest and soldier. But I'm not even going to begin to delve into the fact that _you _are supposed o be an upright, honorable priest of the Alliance. I'm going to let you go, but if you ever—and I do mean _ever_ touch me again, I can assure you that every single bone in that body of yours will be displaced and shattered. Do you understand?"

Gregor, still shocked, grew pale before nodding. "I understand."

"You're lucky I don't report what you've done to Fordring."

"Grace I never meant to-"

"Save it." Skillfully I stood up, freeing Gregor to slide to a sitting position. "Just leave, Gregor."

He seemed torn between opening his mouth to speak and opening the tent's flap, but after a brief pause, he listened. Poor Gregor scurried away like a frightened kobold, his long garment hindering his movement as he left.

I stood in silence for a moment, closing my eyes and attempting to calm my thoughts. I wasn't going to stride outside and kill Gregor. And I wasn't going to cry. I had to remain balanced.  
When I felt stable enough, I geared up and went searching for Vii and Taellor. "Grace!" Kae was waving me over to the main building. "Just in time! Vii and Taellor were about to summon you."

Summon? Kae led me into the small fort, where a large table with chairs was set up. The same man we had met upon arrival here was seated with Vii, Taellor, and a few other men.

Kae held back as I entered the room of men alone. At my arrival, Taellor stood, causing both Vii and the warrior to look over at the cause of commotion. "Grace!" Taellor smiled. "Second Lieutenant Krass would like to meet you," he explained as he motioned towards the warrior being addressed. "Krass, this is Grace Fulstorm."

Officer Krass smiled at me, reaching out to shake my hand. "Ms. Fulstorm. I wanted to tell you how well-liked your brother was as our leader. He was…an astonishing warrior of the crusade."

"Thank you," I responded. "He's…the reason for our visit actually. We were…"

"I'm well informed of your plights, Ms. Fulstorm," Kass acknowledged grimly. "I have little information to give. Only that we were attacked weeks ago, and that our strongest…the Scourge took them."

"Do you think my brother could be alive?" Krass lowered his gaze in response, causing a small amount of panic to quell at my heart. "Do you have any ideas as to where the Lich King could be based?"

"No one has ever been able to pinpoint his whereabouts. His army…seems to constantly be on the move. I'm…I'm sorry I can't be of much help."

I bit my lip, my frustration rising. Nowhere to go…no leads…

"Grace, I'd like to show you…where Lieutenant Fulstorm slept."

Surprised, I looked up in interest. "Please."

Lucas' tent was a bit larger than some of the others. Tears were forming under my eyes before I even entered the tent. "I'll leave you alone," murmured Krass.

I held my breath as I ducked and entered. Lucas' things were strewn on a table on one side. The other side was occupied by his cot. There was nothing out of the ordinary within the room, but the notion that my brother had been here…

And now he wasn't. Covering my mouth to stifle my crying, I sat on his cot and drew my legs into my chest. "Lucas…"

His presence still lingered, as if any moment he could barrel back into the tent and pick up where he left off.

Near his bed was a chain necklace, a signet of the alliance dangling from the silver. They must have been attacked in the middle of the night….the sheets were all strewn, the necklace forgotten beside the bed. I picked it up carefully, afraid it would disappear at my touch. But the silver chain was cool in my hand, the blue and gold of our alliance swinging as I looked over the piece.

I placed it around my neck, chills forming as it contacted my skin. It was a long while before I could dry my eyes and leave the tent. I sat down with Vii and Taellor shortly after. "Lucas…was my best friend," I explained softly. "I can't lose him. I want…" I trailed off, wiping newly formed tears.

Vii's demeanor seemed to soften, his lips pulling into a slight grimace. "Rogue…Grace, we just don't know our next move…"  
I closed my eyes, momentarily trying to clear my thoughts and find a meaningful idea. "I know," I admitted. "I know. I just…if I-"

"No," Taellor snapped, as if he guessed what I would be suggesting. "No more intentional crossovers, Grace."

"Taellor," I grumbled. "You've officially gone from acting like my mother to acting like Zen."

That made Taellor's aura perk up. "It's weakening your mind, Grace."

"That's exactly what Zen would say," I growled.

"Well, _Zen_ must surely care for you, then!" Taellor countered.

If there was one thing Taellor possessed over Zen, it was a shorter fuse to a temper. And he definitely had a harder time hiding said temper under his aura.

"Your body has been weakened as well," the Night Elf continued anyway. "You're really pushing the limits. I can't protect you from your thoughts."  
If I could have, I would have breathed a large sigh. Stupid lungs. Instead, I sat there, staring at the wooden patterns in the table's finish as I held my forehead in my hand, unable to speak.

"I'll write to our base," Vii suggested. "Perhaps Fordring has heard of new information or leads...we'll have to stay a few days for a reply, but…" Vii got up, more silently than I would have anticipating from a Draenei. When he left, I could feel Taellor's eyes gazing intently at me. Trying to read me.

"I need you…to be a friend right now, Taellor."

He sighed deeply in pity. "Grace, that's exactly what I'm doing." I pursed my lips, once again speechless. "Give it a rest these couple days, Grace. We need to lay low for a bit." Taellor left with that, his hand patting my shoulder gently before he disappeared. Begrudgingly I stood, pain shooting through my chest.

I was three steps out of the building when I sensed Gregor's obvious presence. It really took all of my effort not to turn back around. Taellor's aura was easily picked up a stone's throw away, and without looking for him I knew he was eave's dropping out of curiosity.

"It's…it's okay." Gregor held his hands up in a peace offering."I…simply wanted to apologize…for my actions earlier. I was…completely out of line. And I know you have no reason to accept my apology or even believe me, but I _am_ sorry and I have the highest respect for you."

I was fairly good at reading people, and Gregor seemed honest enough. "It's fine, Gregor. Thank you for confronting the issue. It means a lot."

Gregor smiled, a hand extending. "Friends?"

I shook his hand, returning the grin. "Friends."

The next day felt so long. We were awaiting a reply from Fordring, meanwhile unable to really do anything helpful to our search.

Oh, and then there was the storm that had caught up with us. Thankfully, the small troop could keep sheltered within the sturdy main building. It was a whole lot better than a snow for or a floppy tent.

And I actually obeyed Taellor's request to avoid intentional crossovers. To obey wasn't an intention of mine, either, but with the storm, I couldn't get away from the elf to try.

It was two days later, and the storm had settled the slightest, but was still a hazard. And to add to it, my chest was still throbbing and panging. Oh, and Fordring hadn't replied back.

I don't remember much beforehand, except that I was at the table in the big building, attempting to let the time move faster. Taellor was across from me. I was beginning to feel more at ease with—well, myself in general. Taellor had helped me in trusting others with my talents once again, and as soon as the storm would wane and we heard news, we were going to leave and search for Lucas more. And, the headaches and pressure were much lessened. Perhaps I was growing a strange resistance against the Lich King's pull?

Anyway, I was sitting across from Taellor, and he was smiling, and I couldn't help but think about Zen's smile, when a black curtain dropped in front of my eyesight. It was as quick as a snap of my fingers, and the sounds around me vanished as well, replaced with ominous silence.

Then it was as if my eyes had reopened, except I actually hadn't shut them at all, and somewhere deep inside me I knew who had reached out to me.

These were the death knights. Hundreds of them, ready for a good fight. The power and the magnitude of the Lich King's coldness nearly took me over as his hatred and thirst for bloodshed became mine.

_Everything is in place_, he thought to me, enjoying his control over me. _The fall of the living is at the tip of my sword, and you are invited._

Hundreds of eyes were beginning to glow an icy blue, and my urge to leave his consciousness spiked. _Get me out…_

_Did you think the living stood a chance? _he asked rhetorically. _As if your soldiers of the Light could vanquish undeath. Where are your champions now?_

I don't know if I pulled myself out of there or if he let me go, but everything came back in a click. Taellor looked scared to death. I had somehow slid out of the chair during the vision, and now my skull above my right ear was throbbing as Taellor's arms kept me from slouching over. "Grace."

"He's made it there, Taellor!" I blurted. "The Lich King is going to attack the chapel grounds any moment! Taellor helped me up. "Fording…he needs to know. We have to-"

"Grace, it would take days to make it back to the base!"

I was half-listening as Taellor followed me out the door and into the eerily quiet, windless outdoors. "But he still has to…we might have time!"

"Grace, _stop_-"

By now, the ruckus had drawn Vii an Kae as they arrived in the center of the camp. "What's wrong?" inquired the older Draenei inquired.

"Oh, by the Light," I growled.

"Grace had a vision. The Lich King's on the prowl in the Western Plaguelands."

"We have to tell Fordring, at least," I encouraged. "Maybe send reinforcements. He could…"

"Grace, Fordring isn't at the Pinnacle's base," Taellor explained as he cut me off.

I paused, realization of his words settling in. "Where is he?" I asked, nearly in a panic.

"A letter arrived yesterday. From an officer at the Pinnacle. General Fordring left for the Plaguelands…shortly after our departure."

Another blink. My palms were sweaty within their gloves as my confusion tried to re-orient itself. "Yesterday," I repeated. "And when was I going to find out?" I yelled, clenching fists.

Vii and Taellor exchanged careful glances, and I actually grew hurt. "The storm was still brewing, and we needed a plan before-"

"Before telling me?" I countered. "Before I had the chance to make a plan of action myself?"

I paced back and forth, torn between worry and anger and betrayal. "There's hundreds. Fordring…" Finally I stopped, facing a concerned Night Elf and Draenei. "I need to go to the Plaguelands," I announced.

"Grace, it's a week away. By the time-"

"I'll portal. Hearth. I don't know. But I could be a big help, Taellor. You know that. A big help…" I was very fidgety now, my legs wanting to pace as another silence lapsed. I could sense the hesitation as it tinged at everyone's auras. "There's a fight halfway across our world, and it's _my_ fight."

"But Grace…"

"I'm following my heart, Taellor! You know we both belong there!"  
Taellor's aura backed down, and for a moment it reminded me of the night Zen turned away, leaving me to do my own will—and I slipped through the night and left his side. Taellor's hand reached deep within his breast pocket until he finally pulled out a small stone. "If one of us belongs there, it's you," he insisted. "Take my hearth stone." The magic of the gray slate was glaring off its surface; it must have cost a lot to obtain. A sadness clouded Taellor's eyes as he grew unwilling to accept a loss. His eyes were on me, however, even as he straightened his arm to hand me his stone. "Grace, please…"

Taellor…

I hesitated, eyes moving from the blue colored hand to Taellor's eyes. Could I leave another behind in search of contentment?

"Oh please, stop it you two," Vii growled. "Don't be ridiculous." In a blink his large hand was cupping a stone of his own. "Grace, take mine. You two can both go. You're meant to be together."

Taellor and I exchanged glances, and without a thought I accepted Vii's offer. "Thank you so much," I exhaled.

"Just be careful with the magic. It's not bound to the chapel, so you're going to have to be extra controlling with its magic."

I nodded. I had two successful hearths under my belt; what's a third?

"And I expect it to be returned, of course," added the Draenei, who winked as he spoke.

"As soon as possible, Vii," I promised. Vii slapped me on the shoulder, his display of friendliness nearly causing my knees to buckle. Then he turned to Taellor, who smiled.

The Draenei and Night Elf grasped each other's hands in a strong shake. "Until we meet again, my alien-friend," teased Taellor.

"Go with the Light, tree-hugger."

"Thanks again, Vii," I said.

"Ready, Grace?"

I focused on two things as I clutched the small, cool stone in my hands: breathing, and the Chapel of Light. Please get me there…

The green light was present even with my eyes closed, and the rock I clutched was quickly warming. A sick, nauseous feeling began to pull at my stomach, and the feeling of my body being stretched and dismembered and rearranged took over. Right when it worsened, and my vocal chords were ready to scream in pain, it stopped, and the green energy disappeared.


	18. Lucas, Pt 2

Yay for a double update!

* * *

**Lucas**

**Book Nine, Part Two**

The smell of cold, dusty marble was familiar as it met my nostrils. However, my attention was quickly directed to the sound of calamity behind me. I was in the Chapel of Light, and I thanked whatever power had brought me to the location safely.

With ease I realized Taellor had made it as well, and in one piece. My heart was still fluttering from the trip over, and now it was anxiety that wouldn't let it beat normally. The pressure around my temples had returned, although the uncomfortable powerlessness was missing. It was enough evidence to tell me the Lich King was present; and the clashes of metal and roars outside signaled a battle was underway already.

Slowly, I turned toward the chapel's exit; here the rising sun was beginning to arrive. Its intensity was enough to make me stagger back as my senses still tried to adjust to everything. The hearth here had thrown my senses off enough to begin with—then there was the cloud clashes, the sun, the headache, and a looming anxiety as the mix of hot and cold auras whirled around me.

"Well, I suppose we fight?" I asked my rogue partner. I inhaled and exhaled softly—it helped soothe my nervousness somewhat, and it was enough so that I could bear the rest.

After peeling off our extra layers, we arrived outside on the battlefield together, blades at the ready. Until now, I had never actually seen a death knight—not with my _own_ eyes, at least. And if I needed proof they weren't a silly, made up dream, then I suppose I had found it at the doorsteps of the chapel. Hundreds of the Lich King's fighters littered the battlefield, glowing blue eyes a constant reminder of their allegiance. Giant abominations towered over the fights, blocking views and becoming distractions. Our soldiers of the Plaguelands were trying their best to defend their holy place. It seemed as if allies had arrived: the living were in numbers, but we were still outnumbered.

"Where's Fordring?" I asked, concerned.

"I'm sure he has everything under control," Taellor insisted.

I was going to ask if Fordring was even present, but before I could, and adversary was swinging at me, his axe whistling through the air as I barely dodged. It was a Human death knight—or at least, it had been Human at some point. His blonde hair was now tainted in a cold silver and his eyes blazed the typical blue, but he still seemed too human as we sparred. His lips curled into a sneer and his eyebrows narrowed in ferocity; and when my blade ran through his heart, the soldier reeled back, shock overtaking his face as he finally collapsed.

Sighing, I wiped my brow with my forearm. The sun was definitely a change. I moved on to the next closest target; a Blood Elf death knight that clearly had more strength—his sword swung across, and my dagger took the full impact. The metal in my hand clanged loudly, the vibrations from the contact nearly causing me to drop my weapon.

After a few more blows, the death knight's eyes brightened, free hand clenched in front of him as if he was coiling an object. Suddenly, I was unable to move, frozen in place as all the air in my lungs felt like it was being forced out. I tried to choke for air, and the tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as the knight kept his hand clenched.

A different soldier—clothed in the crest of the Argent Dawn—arrived, his sword piercing through the adversary's torso and effectively releasing me from my invisible bonds. I collapsed, gasping for air, and before I could thank my savior, he was gone.

It took a few moments, but I did pull myself back up. That was a close, unfamiliar call. What kind of Unholy magic were these things capable of?

I scanned the field, observing our progress. We were holding our own, but who knew what the Lich King had devised…

And that's when I found him. Scanning the battle I was fighting-against Undead, powerful death knights—is where I finally found my brother.

My heart stopped completely, for who knows how long, as Lucas finished off his Human opponent. At first I stayed back, thinking perhaps my mind was simply playing tricks; but my heart knew otherwise.

The first step toward him was utterly difficult—but after the first, the others seemed to become a single, panicky glide toward my brother. As I arrived in front of Lucas, my heart kicked into overdrive, and suddenly my adrenaline was playing catch up.

Lucas pulled his long sword out of my fallen comrade, his blue eyes now glowing and gazing upon me, not a brief moment of recognition painting his face.

And I grew scared. Because I knew, at this moment, I had a decision to make; even as my own brother steadied his stance, sword at the ready to fight _me_.

"Lucas," I stated loudly, as if I could force it through his head with volume. The name drew no response.

I knew how hopeless these beings were. How emotionless they were after being broken and reshaped by their king. But now that my brother was one of these creatures, it was like my mind refused to acknowledge my visions, the thoughts and facts that there was no hope for them.

"Prepare for death," Lucas warned, and then he was swinging, his heavy sword swooping through the air. I sidestepped, attempting to buy more time.

He wasn't Lucas anymore. And by all regards, he was now an enemy of everything I fought for.

Except in the regard that he was, all technicalities shoved aside, my brother. And it wasn't right that I should kill…

Murder my brother?

Lucas kept attacking me, but I could only dodge as the icy chock melted away, and tears could finally form at my eyes. "Lucas, it's me," I urged, barely dodging the next attack. "It's Grace!"

My options were normally kill or be killed, but my predicament never hesitated in throwing a twist or two into my options.

I parried another of his attacks, and Lucas staggered back, giving me a chance to remove my cloak. It was really slowing me down, and a sweat was beginning to coat my back.

Lucas tried another blow, which I evaded. The death knight growled in irritation.

If I couldn't kill my brother, and I couldn't make him understand, then there certainly were others here that would finish him off. And whether he was dead or undead, Lucas would still never be one of us again. This realization had caught up with me, and for the first time since training, my emotions had overwhelmed me on the battlefield on the battlefield. I was choking back tears, but they blurred my vision anyway and left my body vulnerable.

"Stand fast, brothers and sisters!" Fordring's voice seemed to boom over the battlefield, but that could have been because I had been listening for his arrival.

Probably tired of the games, Lucas held his hand out, sword momentarily forgotten. He whispered one word, and suddenly it felt like my body was swathed in the frost of Northrend again, I felt so cold. The icy touch stung all the way through to my brain that pulsated in pain.

I cried out, but I couldn't will myself to move at all. This was the ending blow, and from my own brother. At least I would make a great tale, I mused: The little rogue girl using her freakish abilities to find her brother, but actually stumbles upon him as a powerful death knight. And so, she refuses to fight, her brother's sword running through her as she looks back at all of the memories of her dear, alive brother…

Then, it was as if Lucas had lifted the freeze off of me—I could move again, and now the death knight before me glared in agitation, his hand tightening on the hilt of is sword.

"Minions, come to my aid!" a voice rattled across the grounds, and suddenly a cold whoosh had swept by, taking me by surprise.

Lucas hissed, and then a golden light coming from the chapel caused him to wither.

"You cannot win, Darion! Bring them before the chapel!" Fordring stood before the symbol of Light, looking like a decorated angel as his aura bled gold.

"Stand down, death knights. We've lost. The Light…this place…no hope…"

I could see how overpowering the Light had become—it was magnified through Fordring, and the remaining death knights understood their predicament. The enemy troops did as commanded, Lucas included, as they moved toward their leader named Darion.

Keeping my eyes on my brother, I took my place behind Fordring, being sure I was as close to Lucas as possible. I needed to see him…while I still could.

"Have you learned nothing, boy?" Fordring began. "You have become all that your father fought against! Like that coward Arthas, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness, the hate…feeding upon the misery of those you tortured and killed!" I looked about the battlefield, where the sun was beginning to reveal more atrocities along the ground. Hundreds of undead carcasses littered the holy ground, but the corpses of our men were present as well. "Your master knows what lies beneath the chapel. That is why he dares not show his face! He sent you and your death knights to meet their doom, Darion."

At the announcement, it seemed me and Darion made the same revelation at the same time: what Fordring spoke was truth. At the mention of the death knight's 'master,' I shuddered silently.

Fordring was a scary opponent, and his stunning paladin talents were no contest when Fordring was standing on holy ground. Surely if a Human rogue could understand that, then the Lich King could as well?

"What you are feeling right now is the anguish of a thousand lost souls! Souls that you and your master brought here!" Fordring shook his head, his eyes intensifying. "The Light will tear you apart, Darion!"  
"Save your breath, old man. It may be the last you ever draw," threatened Darion in a low growl.

Before Fordring could counter, a loud boom echoed from behind Darion's cloaked figure. A pair of images—more like ghosts, for they were translucent—arrived, facing each other.

"_My son! My dear, beautiful boy!" _The older spirit announced joyously, a smile on his aged face. Confusion and curiosity had me pinned to the strange turn of events—were these images part of Fordring's plan?

The younger spirit returned the radiant smile. "_Father, you have returned! You have been gone a long time, father. I thought_…"

"_Nothing could have kept me from here, Darion,_" the other insisted, and suddenly I realized the image must have been a memory of Darion's as a boy. "_Not from my home and family_."

"_Father, I wish to join you in the war against the Undead. I want to fight! I can sit idle no longer!_"

So this monster before me, commanding the death knight troops, had once been this animated, eager boy? Sadly, it reminded me of Lucas' determination and liveliness. And yet the fate they shared…

"_Darion Mograine, you are barely of age to hold a sword, let alone battle the Undead hordes of Lordaeron. I could _not_ bear losing you. Even the thought…_"

A parent's anguish. That was something I, too, had grown familiar with.

"_If I die, father, I would rather it be on my feet, standing in defiance against the Undead legions! If I die, let me die with you!_"

Now that response was familiar as well. The whole scene was eerie and getting uncomfortable, but I couldn't look away.

His father seemed calm as he regarded his child. "_My son, there will come a day when you will command _The Ashbringer_, and with it mete out justice across this land. I have no doubt that when that day finally comes, you will bring pride to our people and that Lordaeron will be a better place because of you._"

Well, there sure was a horrific, ironic twist in _that_ story's ending. The large, golden sword pictured with the older spirit was most definitely now in his son's, Darion's, hands. Except now _The Ashbringer_ was corrupted; tainted with darkness and bloodlust.

"_But, my son, that day is not today. Do not forget,"_ The man insisted to his child.

It was then that the headaches returned, and in full force. The pressure was nearly enough to cause me to black out instantly, and the reason appeared right before everyone.

The Lich King had arrived, his dark aura like a dense fog across the scene. Everything on the Lich was massive, his armor and helmet dark and looking as if they were carved from ice. And his eyes glowed like his followers', aflame and set on every being before him.

"Touching…" he announced, his voice familiar as he lifted his arm, palm out. I nearly wanted to duck and cover at the simple movement. "He is mine now." In a flash of black, the Lich King was pulling the vision away, making it disappear. Everything around me was beginning to become too much—my knees shook, vision blurry as I tried to step further back.

Darion's fuzzy figure stood now, and even with his back to me I could see his anguish. A glowing Ashbringer was pointing at the Lich King, who stood tall and didn't budge. "You…betrayed me. You betrayed us all. Monster!" His aura pulsated, but it was no match against his master's. "Face the might of _Mograine_!" he boomed, his body flashing and arriving in front of the Lich King to attack. Another rumble erupted, and with a single swing, the Lich King sent Darion flying back, to the left of our remaining troops.

It was like a wave of darkness followed through the ranks after the attack. To the others around me, perhaps it was a burning sensation. To me, it was a pulse that made my barrier crack.  
Everything went black for a split moment, and the next frame, I was looking in the Lich King's point of view.

"Pathetic."

"You're a damned monster, Arthas!" At the mention of his name, the king's aura seemed to darken. Was that delight that I felt? Getting under Fordring's old, wrinkled skin was quite refreshing.

"You were right, Fordring," the dark, strained voice began. "I did send them to die. But yours…" The Lich King's bloodlust was relishing every moment. I tired pulling away, but the Lich King was rock solid, and I couldn't force my way out of his head.

I tried to remain silent. If the Lich King realized I was currently slipping in to his thoughts and sight, I wouldn't have a body to return to, for he would surely destroy me.

"How simple it was to draw the great Tirion out of hiding. You've left yourself exposed, paladin. Nothing will save you."

"_Attack! Apocalypse!_"

Everyone lunged for the Lich King at once—death knights and crusaders alike. But the monster swatted the flurry away as easily as he had Darion. I felt the massive arm pulsate with power at the action, a cold spark running up his arm and freezing my mind.

The move had been successful. Even Fordring himself had been knocked to his knees, but he didn't swoon.

"Tirion!"

Darion's voice. From the corner of the Lich King's eyes, I could see Darion use his last bit of strength to stand and toss his treasured sword to Fordring.

Darion collapsed yet again, but Fordring stood now, holding _the Ashbringer_ as easily as if he owned it.

It was as if the sword itself had an aura that was now melding in Tirion's hands. The sword glistened gold yet again, its power surging forth and combining with Fordring's own power.

The energy surge had the Lich King weary—a small amount of agitation ran down my spine.

Fordring felt the increase, the fury like a swirl of energy around him. "_Arthas!"_

The Lich King took a step back as the images I was witnessing began to darken and fade. "_**What is this?"**_

It was as if I was forced out of his sub-consciousness.

"Your end."

I forced my own self upright, determined to watch the happenings before me. I felt Fordring's power compared to the Lich King's. This could be it…Fordring could be the hero to end the suffering of the living.

Fordring advanced toward his enemy, and from my position on the ground, I watched the Lich King get knocked back by the force of a blow.

"Impossible," the Lich growled.

Without any more options, the king stepped back. "This is not over!" he declared, his body disappearing before Fordring could end the fight properly. "When we next meet, it won't be on holy ground, paladin."

He was gone. When Fordring was sure of it, he turned resolutely, walking to Darion's laying form. Frustrated, I tried getting up too fast—my equilibrium was in need of adjustment, and golden stars seemed to streak across my line of vision.

By now, death knights and other survivors were stirring back into consciousness, and Fordring was kneeling beside Darion Mograine, assisting his old enemy to his feet. "Rise, Darion, and listen…we have all been witnesses to a terrible tragedy. The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil." By now, Darion and Fordring were both on their feet, giving the others around them an opportunity to stand as well. "Honorable knights, slain defending their lives…_our_ lives! And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant in our cause! The Lich King must answer for what he has done, and must not be allowed to cause further destruction in the world! I make a promise to you, brothers and sisters: the Lich King will be defeated!" Fordring walked in circles, addressing everyone equally as if we weren't just clawing at each other's throats. "On this day, I call for a union. The Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one. We _will _succeed where so many of us failed! We will take the fight to Arthas, and we will tear down the walls of Icecrown!" Fordring's bulky hand was raised, fingers curled into a fist as he looked up in anger. "The Argent Crusade comes for _you_, Arthas!"

His words seemed to echo onwards into the sky, now colored a blue-gray as the sun finished rising. In eagerness I scanned the faces behind Mograine, almost instantly finding Lucas in the crowd. His eyes looked directly at me, and something within me knew that even amidst all of the chaos and tragedy surrounding his new "life"—he could recognize me again. And if he could that…the rest of 'us' could be re-established.

Darion nodded, his hand resting on Fordring's shoulder gear. "So too do the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Although our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King. This I vow."

Fordring nodded. "There is much to be done."

Tirion and Fordring set off to start clean-up and rebuilding. Eventually, Darion's death knights would have to return to their base, and Fordring to Icecrown—but this time, with a newly acquired alliance.

Before I could move for my brother, an unscathed Taellor had found me, relief painting his face. "You're alive," he breathed.

"Of course," I muttered, distracted by my brother's movement ahead of us. The Night Elf followed my gaze and exhaled.

"Your brother?"

"Mhm…"

Taellor patted my shoulder affectionately. "Good luck, Grace."

With an anxiety I couldn't fathom I stepped toward my brother. His pale skin and blue eyes were a definite change—but in his face and posture I still found the Fulstorm blood coursing.

Then, I was before him yet again, except this time, his sword wasn't drawn. It was me and Lucas, and it seemed like so much had happened and yet nothing had changed.

I wetted my lips, still dry and cracked despite the new humidity. "Lucas," I breathed.

His face had become harder to read, but finally, his head bowed in recognition. "Grace. Little sister."

Finally I could breathe. With a small cry of relief mixed with agony, I rushed to my brother and buried my face into his armor as I hugged him.

I hadn't expected Lucas the death knight to snap back into his living self's personality—but the hesitance and distance as he begrudgingly hugged his sister back was definitely going to take some getting used to. "I was scared, Lucas," I mumbled, although his cold armor muffled the sound. "I thought you…"

"Were dead?" he clipped. Lucas' voice was now so dark and void of the melodic lilt he once had. "Dead would be a blessing."

I pulled away, wincing slightly between my ribs and Lucas' scathing remark. "Lucas…" The words I could say were all jumbled up, and the anxiety and fear were crawling up my spine yet again. No one said this was easy. "Lucas, I thought I'd never see you again."

He said nothing. What else could I do?

"I know it's difficult, Lucas," I whispered, taking a small step closer. "It's _very _difficult. And I don't know exactly what you've gone through, or what has brought you here, but I know what the Lich King is capable of. And I know it's no coincidence that we have found each other here. I also know that you are my brother, Lucas, and nothing changes that. Not death or even _undeath."_

"I'm an abomination," he whispered, though harshness had been replaced with sadness. "I turned from my people, my family…"

"You're free now, Lucas," I uttered, managing a small smile as tears crawled down my soiled cheeks. "You and the others have been freed, and now you have the chance of redemption. The death knights are a sign of hope within or darkness. With your cooperation, the crusade will slay the Lich King!"

Lucas nodded. "This…is what gives me…purpose."

I held back a cry. It was a start.

"Grace," he began coolly. "Why aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid?" I repeated softly. "Of you?"

"Of this…monster I've become."

"You're not a monster. There are worse things to fear. I have seen my fair share of monsters."

I told the story of how I had sworn to find him, of how determined I was. I explained my abilities to Lucas as well, who was suddenly very interested. The two of us wound up in the chapel, and when I finished, Lucas nodded. "It appears…you have your own share of burdens."

"I don't know exactly what you've been through," I repeated from before, "but I know how it feels to teeter between two sides of a war."

My brother's hand grabbed my own, though he grimaced as if the touch was upsetting. "Thank you."

I knew it was too soon for Lucas to share his own story and experiences, too painful. But I stayed there with him. And I could wait.

We returned to the mess outside, helping with the rest of clean up.

"Grace!"

I turned, smiling instantly as Taellor arrived yet again. With open arms I embraced my friend. When I pulled away from my fellow rogue, I motioned to him. "Lucas, this is Taellor, a friend. Taellor, my brother Lucas."

"Grace loves you very much. She's been to Northrend and back for you."

"I'm very…blessed."

Taellor smiled. "Fordring plans on departing around suppertime, Grace. Portal to the Argent Vanguard."

I nodded. As Taellor left to give us space, I looked expectantly at Lucas. "I suppose we part ways soon."

"I must help Darion. It's all I'm good for now."

Shaking my head, I tried not to let my eyes fall on the carnage surrounding me. "It feels like I need another year to catch up with you."

"Death knights!"

"I'm sure you'll see me around. Fordring and Mograine are now going to be very strong allies."

"Lucas," I began, glancing behind my brother's shoulder to be sure of our privacy, "there's something I should tell you. Before you go…"

If possible, Lucas stiffened even more. He must have easily read the shift in my aura as I tried to figure out how to best explain it.

"Dennis…died," I told Lucas, who exhaled slowly as he took the news. "About a month ago."

The blue glow in his eyes seemed to dim as I tried to keep in my tears. "Do you know what happened?" he asked softly.

Through the calm question, I still heard a strain of distress. Perhaps this wasn't the proper time to tell Lucas about Dennis' end, with his turn of events. He was very confused about his ability to 'live'—to feel and love. But he had to know, and telling him later just didn't seem appropriate.

Telling Lucas was, actually, a bit of a selfish move. Finally someone else would understand the ordeal and suffering I had to experience with my loss. "I was there," I choked, the tears coming once again. It seemed I would always lose my sinister rogue façade around my brother, regardless of what he was. It felt like I was back at the moment after Dennis died, and how grueling the feelings were.

Grimacing, Lucas hesitated before pulling me over for a hug. "Gracie…"

"I was there to rescue him and two others," I explained. "We had nearly made it. The Undead hadn't detected us…and then an entire troop of them found us.

"I should have stayed," I growled. "I should have died, Lucas. Dennis wouldn't have any of it. He gave me a hearth stone…shielded me with a barrier. I returned safely…the others didn't."

"Ssh." Lucas sighed, momentarily making me question if the Undead needed to breathe. He finally pulled away to look at me. "I'm very…proud of him. Dennis was a brother. He protected our little sister." His eyes drifted off my face, sitting on something behind my shoulder as his stone façade took over again. "From my own kind."

"You're afraid he's undead," I mentioned softly.

"It concerns me."

"Dennis wouldn't allow that," I insisted.

"That's because he's better than me."

"Lucas," I chided, barely able to see him through blurry vision. "I'm begging you as your sister…"

"Your own brother-"

"I _love_ you!" I stated. Lucas clipped his mouth shut, caught off guard, as his eyes finally looked _at _me.

"Grace, you know I love you."

"Lieutenant Fulstorm."

I forced a smile through tears as Lucas looked back at his superior and quickly gave me a goodbye hug. "Please fight back, Lucas," I whispered as Fordring and Mograine approached us. "Dennis would want you to look at the good parts of…life. Be careful…for Dennis and me. And mom and Matthew."

At the mention of his family, Lucas inhaled carefully. "I'm always careful," he responded, mustering a small smile.

"You ready, lieutenant?" Mograine asked, his voice holding a little less callous than before.

"Yes, sir."

Fordring smiled. "Lieutenant Fordring. Welcome back to the fight."

"Highlord Fordring was just complimenting you on your abilities, lieutenant," Darion explained.

Highlord? Fordring was becoming a vital piece to our war, and there I was standing with him and the general of the death knights with my brother.

"Well, you may have one of my best lieutenants, but I have the next best thing!" Fordring nudged my shoulder playfully, the first act of lightheartedness I had witnessed.

The blood was rising to my cheeks. "Highlord General, I don't think I-"

"Just call me Fordring, Grace."

"General Mograine, this is my sister, Grace," Lucas introduced. Mograine bowed respectfully.

"Greetings."

I bowed as well, my insignificance very obvious as the decorated heroes towered over my silly pin and pair of daggers.

"I'd hate to cut the pleasantries short, Tirion, but my knights have much to do in preparation," Mograine mentioned. His living counterpart nodded.

"Of course, Darion. If you ever need any assistance…"

"We shall call upon the help of your crusade. The same goes for your plight."

Fordring nodded once more, his eyes gleaming with hope as Mograine opened a portal leading out of the battleground. "Until next we meet, friend."

"Until then."

Lucas bowed. "Stay alive out there, Grace." And with that, the death knights had vanished. I sighed, watching as the portal dissipated into the air.

"You shall be reunited in due time," my general insisted.

"If I'm not dead," I muttered.

"I only need to finalize a couple of things before we return to the battlefront in Northrend. Find Taellor, Ms. Fulstorm. Tell him we depart in roughly an hour."

Quickly I fulfilled my orders. Taellor nodded in approval. "Right on schedule. How are you feeling?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Like I'm floating miles above my body," I answered honestly.

"And the connection to the Lich King?"

"Nothing's come up since he left," I responded.

Taellor paused for a moment, leaning in as he rested his arm on the pew. "And how are you taking your brother's turn-out?

My lips pulled into a grimace. "It's not the best outcome. But it's not the worst. It's just…still a shock. I don't know how to talk to him, what to tell him or my parents…"

"Take each day in stride," Taellor advised. "For both of you."

"Thanks, Taellor," I hummed. "It feels like…I don't know. Like the guilt's starting to finally lift off my shoulders. With Dennis' death, my desertion of everything back home…everything felt completely out of my control. Now everything's finally settling down. Coming into place."

"Just concentrate on the fight ahead, Grace," Taellor recommended.

I nodded. "Thanks, Taellor. For being here with me."

"My pleasure." The Night Elf shrugged it off as he shifted in our pew, pulling a strap when I finally laid my hand on his. Caught slightly off guard, Taellor paused, his eyes shifting to mine in interest.

Maybe I was just tired of Taellor acting like he was watching over me because he was a friend. Taellor's concern was very important—it kept me sane as our group faced the hardships of Northrend. I still can't explain my full motivation—I wanted Taellor to realize my appreciation; slowly I leaned in, being sure I caught Taellor's full attention as I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The Night Elf's skin was soft and cool, but as I pulled back, his aura warmed. Taellor's dazzling eyes watched me intensely as my face hovered over his shoulder.

"You taught me how to be Human again, Taellor."

"Grace…" Taellor's slender fingers lifted my chin, so that my face was a breath from his.

My mind was panicking again, like it did with Gregor. But this time, I had very little desire to stop anything. My heart must have tripled in tempo—why not Taellor? There was nothing wrong with Taellor. I wanted to be happy again, and Taellor definitely deserved to be _happy_. And he certainly, at the moment, had my heart's attention.

His lips drew near my own, and I felt an unfamiliar drive that was urging me to close the gap. Taellor's lips lingered a moment, his breath on my neck as he seemed to hesitate in contemplation. Then slowly, he pulled even closer, our mouths not quite connecting but the touch tickling my lips regardless, as if the Night Elf expected me to be the one to pull away.

I quivered with anticipation. Then, at the same time, it seemed like both of us sensed Fordring's gallant aura, and we pulled away just as our superior appeared in the doorway.

"We're running ahead of schedule, Officer Taellor! Assemble those departing for Northrend!"

"Of course, sir." Taellor fumbled to his feet as I tried to ignore the small smirk of amusement on Fordring's lips.

The men left, leaving me to gape at what happened—well, almost.

Me…and Taellor? I pondered over the concept for the time left before departure.

The recent events had allowed me to relax the slightest, and let the chaos surrounding the past roll off my shoulders. Taellor and I worked well together, and more than once he had proved his importance in my life.

I thought I was alone in Northrend, but there was Taellor. And the others. And Zen…though I thought of him often and wished it had panned out in our favor…Zen was on an entirely different continent.

So if I wasn't heading in the right direction, if I didn't really belong here, it was no longer my concern. I was in Northrend on a mission, the rest I could let fate unfold. And if that stupid human rogue belonged alongside me, then fate could put him on the Argent Vanguard's doorstep with a pretty little bow.

I counted on Taellor. He deserved my faith, at least. Even as we readied to depart and open the portal, Taellor found me and made sure I was ready.

My Northrend layers were on once again, and I was already sweating by the time the portal opened. There were about a dozen troops joining our cause; one at a time the soldiers disappeared into the magical doorway. I stepped into it right after Taellor, the strange tingling making it difficult to walk through.

On the other side, the subzero temperature was the first notion to hit me. The wind whistled by like a _whoosh_ as I tried to open my eyes and reorient myself.

All of my senses, including my auras, had to reset. I forced my eyes open; the fort was just up the pathway. The first step or two out of the portal were the strangest as the tingling throughout my body faded and the feeling of earth below my feet returned.

It nearly caused me to fall. I stumbled, but Taellor's rogue reflexes had me back on my feet in no time. Fordring led our return home as Taellor eyed my progress up the slope. "First day on the new pair of feet, Grace?"

I shook my head with a smile. I continued climbing, the place feeling strangely vacant when the auras weren't present.

Taellor and I were nearly at the top when a strange feeling triggered my interest. The auras began to seep their way back into my senses, the intensity growing. But there was a certain aura…

Confused, I concentrated on the one unexpected feeling—and when I realized what the familiarity was, I slipped yet again, nearly sliding back down except for Taellor's death grip on my shoulder pads. "_Grace_? Are you _listening_ to me?"

My eyes refused to blink. "That's impossible," I declared, too cautious to get up. But still, no one had an aura like his; suddenly, my desire to reach the base heightened out of disbelief.

Taellor finally managed to help me up, and once I was situated, he too was looking up at what caused my distress.

I took another few steps, the owner of the aura now visible. It was a dream. It had to be. Because there was no possible reasoning or explanation as to why _he_ would be standing there, at _my_ base, if he was at Stormwind. And he couldn't be looking down expectantly, as if he was _supposed_ to be here to greet me at this very moment.


	19. Rival

Hello readers! I am back! I have recently gotten my registered nurse license and am looking for a job...so meanwhile...:p

Please keep reviewing and subscribing...each one brightens my day a lot!

And I failed to mention before...a disclaimer...in some chapters I incorporated dialogue that actually occured in-game...I DON'T OWN THESE. Don't sue me.

* * *

**Rival**

**Book Nine, Part One**

Zen was _definitely_ not supposed to be here, and it could definitely, _probably_, mean trouble. But I didn't want this to be a dream—I felt a relief and a happiness wash over me, and while it was nice to feel relief, it made me feel sick to know I could be feeling such happiness over my future demise.

"Zen," I stated; a tone in my voice couldn't be pinpointed as questions began to flood my thoughts. He wasn't looking at me at the moment—Fordring had cheerfully taken Zen's hand into a shake and was mumbling something about 'additional aid.' I turned to my right, expecting Taellor to mirror my expression of surprise, but the Night Elf had disappeared, probably to tend to Fordring's business.

Finally my general ran off, his recruits needing attention. And then Zen's green eyes were focused on me, and only me, his hand reaching out to take mine in greeting. "Grace," he offered simply. One of his smirks was painting his lips, and I couldn't tell if he was amused or simply pleased.

I couldn't move to shake his hand. "Why are you here?" I questioned bluntly. Panic bit at my throat as I recalled our last confrontation. This could be very bad news—I had gone absent without leave on Zen's watch back at Stormwind, and here he now was, smirking at me.

"I was reassigned to this base," he answered coolly. How I missed Zen's annoying, bemused attitude!

"You don't have to lie," I murmured, looking around. "I made the decision to leave. If you're here to take me back to Stormwind, I won't let you."

"I'm not here to arrest you, Grace," Zen stated. "I was assigned here."

"But-"

"Lieutenant Ashthorn." Both Zen and I turned as Fordring turned around to talk to Zen. "A bit of help with these new recruits?"

"Sir," Zen nodded. "We shall catch up tonight…" It was more of a statement as Zen left to assist Fordring.

"Lieutenant?" I whispered. How long had I been gone, anyway? It was just my fortune—I had succeeded in finding my brother, in finding where I was needed, and then Zen's presence got to throw a stick beneath my feet and trip me. And _just _when I had my feelings for him under control…

I didn't see anyone the remaining day. Too much was happening. Taellor was running errands, Gregor was helping his mentor, and I learned Vii and Kae had left to find even more recruits. I visited Whiplash, though. She seemed content in her stable as I brushed her.

Zen remained busy until well after nightfall. The temperatures again dropped, and Taellor had finally retired to our makeshift tent without a word my way as of yet. I, too, was about to call it a day and slip into the abode, when I spotted Zen striding to what I assumed to be his own little shelter.

I hesitated. It must have been a good few moments I stood outside Taellor's tent, debating on whether I should visit Zen.

The truth was that I missed him. My feelings for Zen were strong, and I thought I had made it clear to him before my departure. Zen and I wore each other out daily. We bickered. He always told me I could be better, and yet he never enjoyed how I risked my life.

But we changed each other. I got him to acknowledge that his feelings existed, and he taught me to monitor mine. And I adored him. For teaching me, for understanding…

In the darkness I padded to his tent, knowing that as soon as I was close Zen would read my aura's intentions. Again, I paused before his tent to gather my thoughts. So much had been left out of our last moment, so many words missing on my farewell letter.

Where had we been when I left? I tried not to instantly recall all of our moments together, but now they were pouring forth, meshing together and becoming one giant memory recollection.

He needed to understand. I moved to lift the tent flap open, but it was already pulled aside. Zen, illuminated by his lantern inside, greeted me with a small smile. "Come in, Grace."

My stomach was doing somersaults, and suddenly my mouth was dry. I slipped into the tent, trying to steady my breathing as Zen closed the flap.

"A lot has happened since you left," Zen whispered. He remained behind me, neither of us turning to face each other—perhaps he, too, was nervous about the confrontation.

"I noticed."

"I knew you would leave me," Zen added. It was a bit more distant, and his aura cooled the slightest. I tried not to get frustrated as I turned to face Zen after all these weeks—Zen was pulling back on his emotions again.

"I did _not_ leave _you_," I stated in a low, desperate whisper. "Please understand…" He gazed directly at me, catching me off guard. "It was for the best. I was putting everyone else in danger. If the Lich King ever got a hold of me…"

"So you decided to travel so that you were right under his nose?" Zen questioned rhetorically, the heat returning to the words.

I wanted to cry and yell at the same time. I wished this would go smoothly—I would apologize, Zen would understand and forgive me, and we'd exchange laughs and hugs…but things were never easy with Zen. Perhaps that's what I found so appealing…

"Grace."

"I was not running from you," I declared. "I had to find Lucas," I choked stiffly. "Everything was caving in around me; I had to do something about it."

"_We…_were not…_ 'caving in_,'" Zen hissed.

"There was never a 'we!'" I countered, my frustration seeping through the sentence. "You never let it turn into a _we_, Zen." When he said nothing, I decided to continue. "I'm _sorry_, Zen. But you know I belonged here. I had to find Lucas. And I did find him."

The rogue's eyes slid to mine. "Alive?"

My mouth pulled into a grimace. "He's a death knight…I was at Light's Hope…"

"I heard news of Light's Hope. I'm glad your recklessness and abandonment was worthwhile."

"Zen, can you please _stop,_" I begged carefully.

Once again, I felt as if Zen would say nothing, but then his hand went to hide his face that betrayed his front of heartlessness. "You had me _sick._ I was…just stuck."

Relief flooded through my body. Tears again pricked at my eyes. "I could never forget about you, Zen. I tried to focus on vengeance and justice, but eventually I realized I would always have feelings. Not just things like hate and vengeance…but love and sacrifice."

"Grace…" His voice was soft and vulnerable again.

"Leaving you…was the _hardest_ part," I insisted, speaking before Zen had a chance to chastise me. When Zen's body stiffened, my eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Zen, _what..._? I missed you…all I could do was…"

"Grace, please." The other rogue withdrew from my outreached hand, and I immediately halted mid-thought.

I bit my lip. There was a moment of silence. "Zen…I know you're angry with me." My hand again went to touch his wrist. "But I also know that your feelings-"

"_Stop _it, Grace," he finally growled. "I can't do this right now."

I could have tried to hide the shock now taking over my body, but Zen could read my aura better than almost anyone. "You can't…do _this_," I repeated, my fists actually curling into fists. "Then why am I here," I whispered more to myself, my gaze fixed to the dirty floor.

His chin jutted to the left as his eyes focused on the rough floor. "It's getting late, Grace."

My eyes rose, eyeing him intently, my anger almost coming forth as Zen was able to keep himself controlled like _always_. "You haven't changed," I snarled, pivoting to the tent's entrance and storming out.

I felt Zen's body following me, but I was now through with dealing with his distance.

"You're quite the advocate of _change_ now," Zen shot back from behind me.

The cold air nearly caused me to choke through my new tears, and I then decided I was _not_ done after all. Forcefully I spun around, breathe coming out in short, chilling puffs. "I've seen a lot," I snapped. "I've seen hell itself, Zen. I don't fear my emotions. Not anymore. I've learned to cherish passion, but you coward before it."

Zen's frame remained in place, feet hidden in the snow as his face remained steeled. His aura spoke more than his expression, anyway: shock.

I turned and walked to my tent, very aware that our scene outside had caught the attention of a few men in their tents.

Despite the cold, my face was warm where hot tears slipped over. Taellor was a few steps out of his tent when I arrived. Concern etched his face as he draped his arm over my hunched figure and led me into the safety of the tent.

How _dare_ he. I was just starting to pull myself together.

"Grace…" Taellor's voice was soft and cautious as I raged within the tent. I paced back and forth, frustrated to the point of stifled growls. "Grace, are you okay?"

"No," I responded. "He didn't have to come here, Taellor, why is he here? Why now?"

"Please…" The tall elf was in front of me instantly, his arms bracing my own so I would face him.

"He shouldn't be here," I sputtered.

"It's okay-"

"It's _not_!" I argued, wiping the tears away bitterly. "He should have stayed gone," I growled. "I wish he never came here!"

Taellor pulled me into his chest, his huge body enveloping me and sheltering me from my problems.

"I think you're overreacting a little bit," Taellor whispered.

"Of course I am," I grumbled. "I'm a Human female."

The Night Elf chuckled lightly as he pulled me away the slightest to look me in the eyes. "Maybe you should sleep it off, Grace."

"But he'll still be here in the morning."

"And so will I."

That ridiculous feeling was coming back again. Last time, it had been in the Chapel of Light with Taellor, and now, we were in the sanctuary of our own tent, where no one would interrupt us…

Call it curiosity, or desperation, or frustration. But at the moment, I truly wanted it. To experience it if only once…

Taellor immediately picked up on my shift in focus, his eyes fixated on my own. His aura changed, but this time it was almost confusing—it warmed and spiked in curiosity, and yet it seemed to want to draw away from my own aura.

Whatever Taellor wanted, he didn't act upon it. The Night Elf was just as frozen as Zen had been moments earlier, ready to react to whatever was forthcoming.

My body leaned in towards Taellor's. His chin was nearly at the crown of my head, and I had to tilt my face completely upwards to remain elevated with his eyes. Finally, my lips were again in close proximity to his, and again I felt that unavoidable pull to Taellor. My breathing was shallow now—enticement had my senses in overdrive, my chest ready to collapse under all of the exhilaration.

It was my lips that brushed his first—it tickled across my skin and shot down my spine. The contact was nearly too much; but it was then Taellor who closed the gap, whose mouth locked onto my own and caused my breath to hitch into my throat and stop there.

We were frozen there a moment, undecided on how to continue from that instant contact. I think shock had both of our minds put on pause. But if felt so nice to feel wanted again, and so I pushed a bit onto Taellor's lips, asking wordlessly for more.

The elf's grip on my upper arms tightened the slightest, as if he was inwardly fighting himself over wants and desires. Much like my own dilemmas. My own hand went to Taellor's smooth cheekbone, my lips gliding across his bottom lip. Taellor's hesitation seemed to slip, his hand lifting to grasp my neck and pull me in closer as the kiss mercilessly deepened.

My mind had slipped away. It was my body that took control of me now as the pace quickened. Taellor's mouth explored my own, his motivations unclear as we stayed in each other's embrace. Taellor's tongue finally slipped into my own mouth, the intensity nearly causing my knees to buckle, when he abruptly pulled away and took a sharp breath inward.

"Grace."

My breathing was still irregular as he looked me over, concern in his eyes as we were momentarily silent.

"Grace, we're not…we can't…"

"I'm sorry," I trembled, still recuperating over what had just occurred. "I wasn't thinking, I…"

"It's okay, Grace," he whispered, almost grimacing. "You _definitely_ need your rest."

"Taellor…"

The Night Elf led me to the cot, allowing me to get comfortable before he, too, curled up next to me. We said no more to each other that night—the silence had become our lullaby.

I didn't regret it. Yet. But that was because my mind refused to wrap around the concept of what I had just done. I had kissed Taellor. Had I chosen?

I awoke way too early, but the howling of the wind within the tent wouldn't let me get any more rest. As I sat up, I noticed Taellor was already awake and most likely running errands. Part of me was completely fine with lying there all day—I held my head in my hands, slouched and trying to block out what kind of consequences would come from last night.

_It could have gone farther,_ I thought sarcastically, _and then what?_

And then what would it matter. Taellor was remarkable in many ways, and there wasn't anything about him that appalled me…

Zen. I cinched my eyes shut for a moment, stopping the thought right there. No. So instead I stood, adjusted my gear, and went to look for Taellor, Vii—anyone.

Yesterday's battle finally caught up to my body as I stepped carefully and looked about.

There seemed to be a new hype ringing around our base—soldiers hustled about, some building bigger fortresses, the framework already being pulled up.

Fordring was busy elsewhere, perhaps with Zen or Taellor.

I didn't want to see Zen today. Yesterday I had looked for him constantly, watching him and simply remembering everything I missed him for. But not today.

Besides, I had plenty more on my mind. Like Taellor, for instance.

Taellor was busy, of course, but still he seemed to go out of his way to avoid me. It was as if Taellor and Zen rested on opposite sides of a delicate scale—once I got close to one, it would tip the scale. And never in my favor.

I had finally approached Taellor, wishing to talk to someone. I watched with interest as he monitored the situations above us—beams were being lifted and set on other beams. "We're busy already," I commented. Taellor wasn't surprised at my presence (damn rogue senses), but he did seem agitated at what we both could pick up—Zen's aura.

"Fordring wants us expanding as soon as possible," he explained. "He senses activity right past the crevice…"

"Crevice?"

"Right past that opening in the rocks," the rogue pointed down the way, where the sun was peeking above the ridges.

The cold wasn't too unbearable as of yet. "I'm glad we're finally expanding," I added.

Taellor nodded, and then smirked. "Our new recruiter has been…a bit busy with his tasks."

"Who?"

"Zen."

I kept the growl that was rising in my throat from becoming audible. "He gets to waltz in here and become Mr. high-and-mighty."

"He came greatly recommended by SI:7," Taellor taunted.

Zen floated past the pair of us, his eyes momentarily darting over our figures before he continued to Fordring's tent. What amused me the most was how his aura singed with jealousy. Good.

"If you need any help…"

"Just worry about yourself, Grace," Taellor insisted.

There was a silence as I debated with myself. Finally, I opened my mouth, ready to bring up the happenings of last night, when Taellor shook his head curtly. "No, Grace," he spoke in a low voice. "We don't have to talk about it. I know it was a total accident…"

"Taellor," I breathed. His eyes wouldn't look at me now. His aura seemed so weak and tinged with regret. "Taellor, I'm sorry…you should have just slapped me away…"

"It's not that it happened," Taellor interrupted, his voice strained as he tried to look at me. "It's that it happened like this."

Before I could react, Taellor had walked off, pretending to be absorbed in his work. I may have stood there for awhile. Shock held my feet in place as I replayed what had just happened.

_Like this? _Immediately my eyes drifted to Zen, whose aura had perked with curiosity.

Taellor was actually hurting because of me. It left me in torment—I couldn't run to Taellor to comfort; as much as I loved him, the guilt of hurting him kept me to myself. We both knew that 'we' would never work. That everything was in vain…Taellor obviously loathed Zen, and Zen surely felt the same about Taellor. I felt it every time their auras made contact. It was like watching fire and ice collide. They avoided each other, and I avoided them.

The next few days, I tried to simply mind myself. But everything was so distressing. Avoiding the two guys I had always trusted most wasn't exactly therapeutic.

I wasn't allowed far from base. We were growing in numbers daily, but so was the Lich King's army. Apparently, that was just cause to keep me tucked away safe with my own frustrations.

I worried about Lucas. I missed Zen. And my relationship with Taellor was beginning to tear me apart.

And if that wasn't enough, there were also the crossovers. At first, the headaches and urges were absent. But after a day or so, they crept back into my routine. On day five I was watching a roof get placed when a _whoosh_ left me with a pounding headache and blurry vision—but still I felt my own body fall back, and I watched as the others that had been around now hovered above me.

"She collapsed…"

I was expecting the Lich King's familiar voice to resound through my semi-consciousness, but it never came. It had me confused and nervous, even as Taellor arrived at my side.

"She was fine, and then she just…fell backwards…"

"Grace."

I blinked, an effort to attempt to see more clearly. _Stop talking so loudly,_ I wanted to tell Taellor, but my voice was elsewhere.

"Her eyes are glowing…"  
If I didn't see the Lich King's side, and these symptoms were flooring me…

I wanted to growl as I put everything together. _I'm not stupid. Get out of my head, you monster_, I thought vehemently.

_You're weak, Human eyes have proved to be of use after all,_ was my reply.

"Just give her space," Taellor ordered. His arms had me pulled into his lap. I'm stronger than this. And I wouldn't stand for it. It was hard to control my own body—it had gone completely tense, my fists clenched and actually causing pain. It took all of the effort I could muster, but I finally managed to force my eyes closed. My own world was shielded from the Lich King, and it helped me focus more as I tried to force myself out of the crossover.

_No_, I thought, over and over. _No, no. No._

I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that, with my eyes clenched shut and my thoughts trying to force out the Lich King's invasion. But eventually, the pounding in my head faded, the feeling of viscosity finally evaporating. When I finally felt alone, I opened my eyes.

My vision focused. Taellor was still hovering above me, and Zen not far behind him.

"Grace?"

I breathed, relieved it was finally over, but dreading the meaning. "Yeah."

Taellor helped me up, and after the crowd dissipated, it was only he and Zen with me.

"What's wrong?" asked the Night Elf, who pulled my hair out of my face as I concentrated on staying on my two feet.

"She needs to lie down," Zen insisted.

"It's getting worse," I managed to explain. "Usually, I see through his eyes. This time…he was in my head…"

Taellor cursed as he understood. "This requires attention."

I nodded, taking a step toward Fordring's, but still swooning a bit. Zen shook his head. "Grace, you're in no condition…"

"Zen, stop pretending like you _care_ about my _state_," I hissed, gaining my balance once again.

Somehow I arrived at Fordring's quarters without injury. Zen had insisted on attending, and Gregor was now present.

"What happened?" asked Fordring.

"Her visions," Taellor started, "they've worsened."

"How?"

"He spied. Using my eyes," I explained. I told Fording everything that unfolded, with difficultly. Everything was still a bit nauseating.

The general paused in contemplation. "Interesting."

"What do we do?" I asked desperately. It must have been the question on everyone's mind—the others looked expectantly at Fordring for his answer.

"We press forward," he answered.

I shook my head. "But I'm a danger now."  
The powerful paladin was very wise, but as he sighed, Fording still seemed completely Human. "Let him see," he encouraged, finally pulling away from his desk and standing regally straight. "The Lich King knows were building an army matching his own, with our without your help, Grace. However, I do encourage you to steel yourself," he folded his arms. "_You_ must fight these crossovers, for your own sake. Stay strong. Learn how to withstand."

"I'll do my best."

"You have our support."

"Thanks, general."

Logically thinking, I could withstand, as Fordring put it. I had escaped the crossover once—but perhaps it was the Lich King's doing? And in that case, perhaps thinking logically wasn't the best thinking strategy.

Another couple of days passed. The Lich King hadn't invited himself back into my mind as of yet, and I was growing increasingly anxious; the only solid method of training myself to repel the attacks was to experience the attacks. But _that_ wasn't a comforting thought, either.

I visited Whiplash often. She couldn't treat me differently for, let's say, visiting a different horse. She helped calm me down when my anxiousness would heighten.

Every so often, I would run into Zen. In the stables or near our tents. It hurt. Having him this close and act distant towards me was worse than having him a distance away. We wouldn't speak to each other, and for obvious reasons.

Taellor treated me like a living being, at least, even though he was a bit distanced ever since our…close encounter. He wouldn't touch me unless needed—or unless I seemed to be in trouble, like when I collapsed. That was the most contact I had received from him the past few days.

Another day, and then I finally received what I had been anticipating. I was heading to my tent when the headache worsened, and my vision became blurry yet again.

I swooned, but immediately I tried to pull out of the crossover. My eyes shut right away—if he could see my body and surroundings, it meant less I actually had control over. And no matter how long he sat in my head, it didn't matter if I could control my body and what he physically saw.

At least I could stand on my feet this time, though my hands trembled as I tried distancing myself from the other side.

He was determined—but not enough. Eventually, the sense of doom faded, leaving me to open my eyes and fail in catching myself before I toppled over. I landed on my hands and knees, the close proximity to the snow not registering as I tried to recuperate. "Wow," I breathed.

My mind might not have been capable of running away at a hint of danger—but I could put up a wall like a fortress and play defense for a fair length of time against the Lich King.

It had been two weeks since the battle at Light's Hope. The buildings were nearly finished, and our numbers grew exponentially each day as we compensated for our new base.

Fordring was acting…different. He was much more uptight as he walked about, constantly looking up at the ridges. So when he personally called Taellor—and then _Zen_—into his personal tent, I had to investigate.

The three were inside, and I decided to hang around to listen in. I could feel the animosity billowing out of the tent's flap. Taellor and Zen—despite never saying a single harsh word to one another on _this _continent—carried a huge deal of hostility for each other.

It was figured that the two rogues with Fordring could sense my presence right around the corner; I was hoping the Highlord General wouldn't notice.

"The time is coming," the general began. Too bad my hearing wasn't as cunning as my aura-sensing. I concentrated, trying to listen past the wind's racket and the other surrounding bustle. "We need to start working proactively."

I wanted to lean in closer so badly. A brief silence left me crooning on my toes as I waited.

"I have a reconnaissance mission. It's dangerous. But I have a stash of rogues, and I'm going to use the advantage."

Rolling my eyes, I took a step closer. _I _was a rogue too, right? In fact, my spying abilities were—

"A real assignment," Zen enthused. "I'm in."

"Past our base northwest, the Scourge has been increasing in strength. I can sense it. Lately, it's been even stronger. The pair of you simply must survey the growth. The number of Scourge specimen. I need a general estimate."

Zen and Taellor. On a cute little mission together. _Simple_ just wasn't the appropriate word choice. Perhaps catastrophic to the entirety of the rogue class…

"Simple enough," Taellor announced. I growled quietly.

"Excellent. You will depart at nightfall."

_Do something._ I backtracked a few steps and then walked recklessly forward into the tent with the momentum. "Highlord Ge-" I stopped, feigning surprise at the small meeting (even though my act, to the fellow rogues, was as transparent as the skies of Stormwind). "Oh…I'm sorry…I'll come back…"

"Oh, no, Miss Fulstorm," Fordring insisted, motioning me completely inside. "Please. We were just finishing a couple of orders…"

"For nightfall?" I repeated. Shrugging, I gave a grimace in apology. "Sorry, General. I may have caught the very end."

"So it seems, cadet. Just a simple spy mission."

I glanced back and forth between Human and Night Elf. "These two?" I giggled.

Okay, so I was stepping over a few formalities. It wasn't the first case of such.

"These two are very adept." Not retribution from my superior—perhaps amusement?

"Oh I know, believe me!" I piped. "But…this seems to be a rogue mission…and if it's spying, then I could be a big help!" I insisted.

Tirion frowned, eyes flashing through the three of us. Before he could speak, Taellor cleared his throat loudly. "Grace has been having difficulties with her…secret ability. I don't think it's worth the risk."

"I agree with the Night Elf."

Fordring moved to speak again, but this time I took the opportunity to talk. "I _did_. But twice now I've been able to control it and keep it at bay."

Zen glanced over, my body standing between his and Taellor's. "Grace…"

"I'm an apt subtlety rogue. You need my talents on this one," I encouraged. Because if I don't go, the two hairless yetis would tear each other apart, I should have added.

"Grace, you swear you're fully prepared and able to handle this?" Fordring asked. "I can't have your crossovers putting all of you in danger. And since it's in the heart of the Scourge…"

"I can handle myself," I insisted. "I won't let the crossovers hinder my ability to be a rogue. I would die before I ever let anyone be in danger because of me."  
Tirion sighed. "Okay. You will join. But if you have any signs of an impending crossover-"

"It'll be avoided," I promised.

He nodded. "At dusk, the three of you depart."

My shoulders froze. "All three of us?" Okay, so the plan had initially been to keep the two alpha dogs away from each other's throats. The plan was to bring one of them with me, not _both_—because now it was like Fordring was just throwing the inexperienced dog handler in between the two alpha dogs to keep them separated!

"Of course. It's the only way you'll be going, Miss Fulstorm. Take my offer or don't go at all."

I sighed. "Okay, Highlord. Thank you."

Our trio left the tent in silence, but the heated auras that flanked me meant more than words.

Zen was the first to turn on me once the three of us were out of Tirion's earshot. "If the Lich King sees you walking into _his_ territory, he will find you and kill you. He'll kill all of us."

"I'm glad we're all going together, too!" I countered with a hiss. "Just like old times, _Master Zen_!"

Nightfall arrived quickly. I was fully geared and prepared—the cold was mostly blocked out with my layers of armor. When I mounted Whiplash, her hooves scurried beneath me in excitement.

"Let's go." Taellor led the way through the night.

Three figures on horses galloped toward the small opening that led to our enemies. The old feeling of exhilaration was coming back—it always found me right before a good mission. A good, dangerous one.

Zen's aura was more calm now, as it usually was before his skills would be applied in battle. Back on the Eastern Kingdom, he could have yelled at me for being so emotionally hyped. But now, I was my own master. No longer a student.

Before we slipped in, we left our mounts along the ridges. It was less of a danger. I concentrated on melding into the nighttime's veil as we advanced slowly. We stayed as close to the rocks as possible, and when it was finally my turn to slip in and look into the abyss, my mouth dropped open. "Wow…"

There were thousands. No wonder Fordring was anxious. The dark black cloud of auras was almost smothering. Some bodies were glowing in that familiar blue color. Even in darkness, my eyes could find the mess of buildings and different beasts. Some were insect-like. Others skeletons that once framed flesh and muscle.

"This is…more than I expected," Taellor muttered.

"No stupid moves," Zen growled. "If something triggers them…"

They wandered aimlessly before us, awaiting the commands of their master. All the Lich King had to do was say the words and these things could lunge for our base at any time…

"We have to warn Fordring," I mumbled.

Taellor moved further along the rocks, starting up the ramp that led to a plateau overlooking the mess before us. "Taellor?"

"I'm just going to go up—I need to see how large…"

Zen sighed, immediately following the elf up the long ledge. In fear of being left alone, I followed as well.

Finally, we stopped midway. "Look at that," Taellor marveled. Hesitantly I stepped closer to the edge with Taellor and looked—it was a frightening view up here. The Scourge's masses stretched further out than I presumed.

"Death isn't the only way to stare into the eyes of hell," Zen growled.

Then, without warning, the headache returned, and this time, I was truly afraid of having the Lich King sneak a peek of what I was up to.

I froze completely, my first instinct to clip my eyes shut. Forget the fact that you're teetering on a cliff. A fall would kill me; a breech in my defense would kill everyone.

_I don't think so_, I thought. Trying to keep myself standing and safe while I kept the Lich King at bay was a troubling challenge. Zen and Taellor may have realized my state already—I tried closing everything off so the monster in my head would leave.

"Grace?" Taellor asked. "Let's go."

_I tire of playing these games with you, Human.._

Taellor must not have moved; his aura was as clear as if I could visualize him. And Zen was definitely still behind me.

"Grace, let's move. You're going to fall."

Was I even breathing? I wanted to speak, tell Taellor _no_ and explain, but my energy was in a dozen other places.

I wasn't focused enough for this. With Zen and Taellor in danger, and my own body in danger, it was energy draining to simply keep my eyes closed.

"Something's wrong…"

"Pull her back, Taellor!"

_Yes. Move, girl._

Suddenly, even with my eyes closed, I became very aware of my body. Taellor's hand went to firmly grasp my arm, but I couldn't yell at him to step back. My legs tingled, suddenly giving out as I took a step forward to try regaining my balance.

My feet met air. Taellor still had his grip on me, but with nothing to hold us to the ledge, Taellor's effort only resulted in his body following mine down the treacherous cliff.

The breath I had been withholding hit the pit of my stomach and then hitched into my throat. The first crash of pain was in my right shoulder as I made the first contact with the rocky slope. The jolt of impact must have been enough to catapult the enemy out of my head, because his presence, as well as the headache, had vanished However, now I had other worries.

Fear had my eyes cinched shut, but as my fragile body clashed with every rock and boulder below me, I felt Taellor's grip on my arm disappear.

I had no time to feel worry for Taellor—a sharp rock must have scraped against my head; the wound was instantly painful as my legs flipped over my head and my chest took the beating of another large boulder.

My head went spinning, and it felt like I could have thrown up three days' worth of meals due to the pains in my chest. At least I had stopped moving. The problem was I couldn't breathe or even think straight enough to pull myself up. What luck that my already-bruised ribs would be there to break my fall.

It took a few moments of shaky, shallow breathing and a low moan for me to finally pull myself up with trembling hands. I looked down—the ground was a hop away, where Taellor had landed.

He was motionless. With a new strength supplied by pure panic and adrenaline I forced my mangled body onto the ground and collapsed beside Taellor, who had landed on his side. Holding my breath, I rolled him none-too-gently onto his back. "Taellor," I whispered. No response.

No one had detected us as of yet—after that fall, it was fortunate. But Taellor…

Bile began to rise into my mouth as I gently slapped Taellor's closest cheek. My head was still spinning from the trauma, but then I saw the dark blood seeping from Taellor's brow, and the shock of everything doubled…

Zen arrived what felt like eons later. Silently he kneeled on Taellor's others side, his eyes on me. "Are you okay?"

"I'll manage. But Taellor…" A few more gashes ran along the elf's body, but none lethal enough to kill him. "He must have bumped his head." My vision was beginning to blur, and responsively my hand went to my pulsating head. I closed my eyes to keep the haze at bay, forcing the liquid to spill from my eyes. I was crying.

"He's breathing, but unconscious." Zen looked him over as well. "It was a bad spill."

Worry took over my actions as I looked around. We were clear. Numbly I brought my weak fingers to my mouth and whistled for Whiplash.

"Grace," Zen warned.

"We can't stay here," I muttered. "The longer we wait around, the more likely we'll be spotted."

"But-"

"He's going to die," I urged, my voice cracking.

Taellor couldn't die on me. Whiplash arrived in moments, cautious as she sidled up to us. Zen helped me lift the Night Elf onto Whiplash's back. I saddled up behind his motionless body, all of my strength tethering the Night Elf to me and my hand to Whiplash's mane. "Once you get out of the pass, ride swiftly," Zen commanded. "I'll follow." With one good kick Whiplash galloped away.

When we were out of immediate danger, Whiplash began to gallop at top speed. The snow, still white in the darkness, splashed up behind us. Zen was right behind, as promised. My guilt began to arrive in waves, the tears of worry falling shamelessly down my cheeks. "Please be okay," I prayed. Over and over again.

I arrived with Zen at my heels. A pair of men apprehended Taellor, and once I explained in a frenzy what had happened, they immediately took him to the medical tent.

Reluctantly I watched as they laid him on a cot and tore his already mangled shirt off. More gashes were exposed.

If anything, Taellor looked dead. By the time the medic arrived, I was crying softly, my hand on my mouth as I continued to pray for Taellor's life.

There were healing potions being passed around, and the plethora of paladins and priests were using healing touches where needed.

Someone blocked my view. I looked up, and saw Gregor's very concerned face as he tried pushing me away from the scene. "Grace, please, we're doing our…are you hurt as well?" he asked.

"I…"

"Come." With a lug I was placed on a cot near Taellor, but the priest made sure to pull the privacy curtain. With a spurt of strength I tried wrenching myself off of the cot, a shout of protest leaping out of my throat. Gregor, despite his smaller stature, was a strong man. His arms held me down. "Let me get a look at your head."

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked.

"They're healing as much as they can. But the coma…he'll have to pull out of that himself."

Gregor tried helping me into a laying position, but the effort sent a shock of pain through my ribs again. It was terribly unsettling beneath Gregor's scrutinizing gaze. Breathing was even more difficult on my back. "Grace, show me where it hurts."

I growled. "I hit my chest on a rock. My right shoulder got crushed too. And my head…" My hand went to the abrasion that I knew existed on top of my forehead, but a sticky substance had me withdrawing my touch. Wincing, I looked down at my fingers. Scarlet blood.

"Let me get a healer."

I closed my eyes, the sobs wanting to return. Crying hurt. Breathing hurt. And knowing I caused all of this havoc…that hurt the most.

It wasn't too long before Gregor came back, a more experienced healer at this side. The priest immediately exposed my chest area, his fingers palpating my traumatized ribcage. I whimpered at the contact. "They may be broken. Are you having trouble breathing?"

"N-no," I gasped. Part of me wanted to pull away from all of the work being done on my body. "I'm just…" _Scared. _While the new priest fiddled with my ribs, Gregor took a washcloth to my gashed temple. It burned—I hissed in resentment, hot tears not soothing the prick.

Warming Light was forming in the healer's hands, the heat spreading through my chest. I could feel the ribs mending within me, and it left me feeling nauseous on top of everything else.

A scream died on my lips, my body shuddering. I barely noticed the curtain—but I did notice Zen's frazzled aura.

"Grace…"

Gregor's aura quickly sizzled into one that could easily translate into a "who the hell is this guy?," but Zen came to my side anyway.

"Give her this," the main medic handed Gregor a damp cloth. The priest must have known something I didn't—with a curt nod he placed it near my mouth and instructed me to inhale. "It'll help calm you down," he explained. Begrudgingly I followed the order, even when the towel's stagnant smell hit my nose.

Zen's hand grabbed my own—it was the first time Zen had willingly sought me out, and having his hand on mine was unexpected, to say the least.

Sticky sweat had formed on my forehead, and by the time Gregor was done healing what he could with my shoulder, I was saturated in my perspiration. The glowing finally stopped, and Zen's arrival had somehow managed to calm me down.

The ribs were still terribly sore—and tender, I noticed, as the healer ran his hand along the bones once more to be sure they were aligned. The touch caused me to jump.

At least the pain in my forehead had dulled to a slight throb. My eyes were feeling heavy now, and I had difficulty focusing on Gregor's figure as he toyed with my head wound.

"Feeling tired?" asked Gregor knowingly. If I had the strength to curse at him, I would have, holy disciple or not.

"That seemed to do the trick. It's for the better…this gash is going to need sutures."

I don't remember anything else.

[end]

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	20. Rival, Pt 2

**Hello everyone! I hope you missed me. Well, the story. Good news, is that things are going smoothly for the story. I finished writing the entire thing a couple days ago, it's all typed up. And now, all that's left is letting you all read! Also, I found a job at a hospital =] Things are going great. So here you go!**

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**Rival**

**Book Nine, Part Two**

When I awoke, I wasn't in the hospital tent any longer; instead, Zen's tent surrounded me.  
Groaning loudly, my first instinct was to sit up. When I tried, however, lightheadedness overwhelmed me, and I nearly toppled out of my small bed if not for a strong arm catching me.

"Don't even try it, Grace."

Through closed eyes I saw shooting stars and strange blurs of colors, but what confused me more were my surroundings. "What am I doing in your tent, Zen."

"With Taellor's condition as it is, I didn't think it would be appropriate for you to recuperate in his tent."

I stopped breathing again. "Is he alive?"

"Alive, but still unconscious." I held my head in my hand, the dizziness beginning to thin.

"I'd rather not 'recuperate' in this tent," I growled, finally managing to open my eyes.

"I told the priests I would watch over you."

"You don't have to watch over me anymore. I remember what you said last time we talked here. I'd rather not relive it." With resolve I lurched forward, attempting to stand and eventually leave in search of Taellor, but Zen's arm still held me in place.

The male rogue's mouth was now severely close to my neck, but I couldn't move. Blame it on Zen's aura—it always managed to smother me.

"I'd rather not relive it, either," he whispered, breathe stirring the hair around my neck.

Who would have guessed. As soon as Taellor was incapacitated, Zen was ready to act as my hero.

I was definitely arriving at a dilemma. On one hand, Taellor was across the base, unconscious because of me. And on the other hand…having Zen's attention felt nice.

So where did I want my loyalties to lie?

I couldn't rid of the guilt still swelling in my heart. And the bitterness returned when I remembered how Zen had shut me out after my confessions.

I had to get out of this tent. Zen was triggering familiar feelings, and I wasn't ready to face them yet. Having Zen near me again was nice. But…I inhaled carefully. "Is Taellor still at the hospital tent?" I asked softly. This time, I avoided eye contact with the rogue who once trained me.

That did the trick. Zen withdrew the slightest, taken aback. "Yes."

"How long has he been out?"

"Since last night. It's nearly dawn. Maybe you should rest a bit before…"

"Zen, Taellor needs me," I growled angrily. "More than _you'll _ever need me; you've made that very clear."

Again, the rogue quieted with shock. I took the opportunity to stand. This time I was successful, though it felt like every bone in my body had aged and decayed.

I felt the tension between us. I always knew when Zen's comments were coming. "What, Zen."

"It just makes me wonder…" He paused, the rogue looking momentarily Human as he debated on talking. "Taellor's state has certainly made you worry. Even with your own injuries, you still manage to grieve over him."

Grieving. I was a professional griever by now. Over my father, my innocence, my freedom, Dennis, Lucas, my home.

"It's my fault, Zen. I pulled-"

"Would you have reacted the same…if it was me that fell?" he asked carefully, in such a brittle voice I nearly thought it hadn't been a question from Zen.

I paused, taken by surprise. Gingerly I turned to face Zen, my face contorted by the thought. "I'd be in far worse condition, Zen. Far worse."

He stood, but I took a step back in anticipation. "Grace…"

"I can't do this right now Zen. Not right now." Resolutely I turned and left, the dawn beginning to brighten and make the snow sparkle.

My ribs were only tender now—my shoulder was the biggest origin of pain. And my forehead—well, if there were stitches, I didn't want to feel them.

When I arrived at the hospital tent, a single doctor was checking up on Taellor. I snuck in, frowning at the lifelessness of the Night Elf's body. "Any good news?" I questioned.

"His body is healing fast, and the faster rate could be attributed to his coma. But he needs to pull out of it within the next day, or the chances of recovery start to dwindle dramatically."

I sat down, pulling a seat up to his bed. If not for his breathing, I could have mistaken him as dead. "He can pull through this," I ensured. My hand rested on his cold one. The healer slipped away quietly, silence blanketing the room.

"Taellor," I whispered. Tears fell down my face almost instantly. "You need to wake up. There's a lot that needs done still. And Fordring," a chuckle slipped from my lungs, causing me to wince, "I don't think he's going to be able to do this without you."

The quiet wasn't comfortable at all. But I stayed at his side anyway, my leg bouncing up and down. "I'm sorry," I finally managed to muster.

Images of the night before wouldn't go away. Doubts and questions rattled my brain. Why had Taellor risked his own life? And more importantly—did I fall off the cliff?

I had tried to block the idea out of my thoughts, but now avoiding them was impossible—was I being controlled when I took the fall? Even with my eyes closed, the Lich King seemed to have a pretty good idea of my predicament. Had he commanded me over the edge?

It was never meant to come to this point. I had avoided friendships and help, had left Stormwind to evade this exact moment. Why did I promise his safety and not guarantee it? Why had I ever gotten close to him?

My curse ultimately hurt those I loved. I shuddered, determined not to contemplate my awful situation any further.

Leaving Taellor's side was out of the question. It was lunch time, and still no change. Healers poked heads in every so often, basically all humming the same thing: the more time that passed the worse off.

Suppertime was closing in. The anxiousness was overwhelming—I kissed Taellor's cool forehead before stepping outside for a breath of air.

Taellor was killing me. I couldn't focus or concentrate knowing I had put him here.

"Grace?" Zen had actually taken me by surprise as he now looked me over. "Grace, you look sick…"

"I'm just…worried."

"Have you eaten anything?" I didn't answer. Zen sighed his disapproval. "You need to eat something. I'll-"

"I'm not leaving."

"I'll _bring_ you something," Zen finished. "I've completed my duties for today. I'll be back."

I sat at Taellor's side again, trying not to let my hope dwindle. Zen returned as promised, a cup of stew in hand. To my surprise, he pulled up another chair next to me, concern within his aura. "Thank you," I muttered, nibbling at the warm food.

"I would never want any of our own to end like this," Zen acknowledged. "I pray he recovers."

We stayed silent for long moments. Everything was so delicate between Zen and me, but I did appreciate his company.

It was well into the night when Zen stood, his hand gently resting on my good shoulder. "It's getting late, Grace."

"I want to stay…a bit longer," I insisted. The rogue beside me nodded understandingly.

"If…you don't want to be alone or…you can't handle Taellor's tent…you're welcome to stay with me."

He slipped out silently. I grabbed another blanket, pulling it over Taellor's cool body. It was another long moment before I decided to leave Taellor. As I left, Gregor was walking in.

"Oh, Gr-"

"If anything changes…you'll get me or Zen?" I asked.

"Of course. I'll send someone to Zen's tent immediately."

Zen was right. Staying in Taellor's tent…I wasn't ready. Mindlessly, I walked to Zen's tent, pulling open the door as quietly as possible. Zen's hair caught on glimpses of the candlelight. "I don't want to be alone," I admitted.

The male rogue motioned me over, his arm pulling the blankets aside. Taking my boots and daggers off, I slipped into the cot, Zen's arm softly bracing my stomach. His lips rested at the base of my neck, and finally I could breathe and feel safe.

"I'm scared," I whimpered.

"Me, too."

"So you do have emotions," I mumbled, yawning into the pillow.

It was the middle of the night when a horrible flashback had me waking up in a panic. Zen was still snoozing, his face nestled in my hair, but when I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, the rogue was immediately alert. "Zen," I breathed, hovering over the man with sweaty palms and misty eyes. "I think I was forced over the cliff."

He paused, gathering his senses before he responded. "As in…on purpose?"

"I was having a crossover; the Lich King told me to move. What if he commanded me to topple over-"

"Grace." Zen sat up calmly. "You slipped. Perhaps you slipped due to your weakened condition, but…I saw what happened. You didn't deliberately step off the cliff." I was biting my lip. "It was an accident."

"It's still my fault, though," I admitted.

"Grace, please…" Zen's warm hand rested on my neck, instantly calming down my heart rate. "Lie down. You need rest."

It took some effort, but I finally drifted back off to sleep.

I don't think I slept for long before I was jostled awake—and from Gregor's frazzled aura, I could tell I wasn't going to get a pleasant awakening. "Grace, come on," he summoned. "Fordring has requested your presence."

Immediately I knew why Gregor was so alarmed. It could only be about one thing.

As quickly as possible I prepared myself for the barrage of impending questions. Zen insisted on following me there. The walk to Fordring's office wasn't long enough, and as I stepped inside, my nerves spiked. Zen waited outside.

Fordring was sitting, but as I arrived he stood and kept his steady gaze on me. My rogue senses didn't pick up any rage or disappointment directed toward me, and for that I was relieved.

It was only me and Highlord General Fordring. Not many soldiers this side of the war could say they stood face to face with the man of honor and were regarded by him.

"Grace."

Be that regard on good or bad terms…

I bowed slightly, my thoughts elsewhere. I had to stay calm, I had to explain the details, and most agonizingly, I had to tell Fordring the truth.

We sat, and still Fordring looked me over like a father contemplating his child. It was unlike me to twitch—rogues were known for their steady hands as they wielded twin blades—but now, my knee was jostling up and down. Of course Tirion picked it up right away. "I know this is inconvenient, and that you would rather be at Taellor's bedside, but I just wanted to be sure to investigate the fall…"

So he'd already heard the tales. Word traveled fast—especially when it isn't a desire of mine. Zen had reported our findings to Fordring when we arrived—no doubt Fordring had been contemplating my accident ever since.

Before I could explain, I had to unclench my jaw. "I…somehow I slipped along the ridge. Taellor was holding onto me…we both toppled down the slope."

"Any of the enemies alerted?"

"None whatsoever."

So far, I wasn't put in the position to be truthful or lie. "Is there anything you want to tell me…explain? Anything?"

Damn.

I sucked in a breath. "I had a crossover on the ridge," I confessed softly. "Taellor was just trying to get me out of harm's way."

The general grimaced, as if he had expected such an explanation. "I see."

"And…" I was a glutton for punishment. "And I'm worried…because in my head…the Lich King talked. He talked to me. I had my eyes shut, so to prove a point, he…said 'move.' I think…I'm not sure…"

"You think you were puppeted off the edge?" he finished.

My head bowed in nervousness. "It's been a concern of mine."

"Grace, I-"

"Highlord." My head snapped to the side in surprise at the new arrival. Zen was now before us, lean figure framed by the tent's canopy.

"What about rogues make them so prone to arriving in the nick of time?" Fordring questioned rhetorically.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Zen insisted, "but I'm the only one that truly saw what happened to Grace and Taellor. I fully believe Grace merely slipped. She didn't look pushed over or forced at all."

"Is that so?"

"Her body was weakened because of the crossover. I don't believe it was anything but an accident."  
Zen's eyes wouldn't tear from Fordring. He looked incredibly stern and convincing, with how confidently the man held himself.

It was quiet for a brief moment. "I appreciate your input, Lieutenant. However," I winced, "it doesn't bypass my better judgment the fact that Grace still had yet another crossover she had to fight. While I believe and trust in your recollections, Zen, I would still prefer that Grace take…extra precautions. Gregor." In a moment the priest had arrived. "It is apparent that Grace's ability is developing. I'd like you to train her in some mind exercises to strengthen her spirituality."

Spirituality. Right. A rogue counting on spirituality would be like a mage counting on a sword.

"And Grace, please stay within our eyesight. No more missions or quests until these…developments have been confronted properly. It's for your safety as well as the others'."

I wanted to groan, but I bowed instead. "Yes, sir."

"I want daily reports of progress, Gregor. And Grace, please no offensive crossovers…"

"Yes, Highlord."

"I know you're worried about Taellor. You three are dismissed."

A new sense of dread was now beginning to overcome me as I realized that the night had passed without any news of Taellor. "Thanks Zen…for sticking up for me…" I mentioned, trying not to make eye contact.

"I only told the truth. Are you okay?"

"I have to check up on Taellor," I breathed, suddenly worried. I made four steps down the hill toward the hospital ward before I caught sight of Gregor fumbling towards me.

"He's waking up!" he announced with a huge smile. Without a thought I broke into a run, cursing my injuries as they slowed me down.

When I finally managed to barrel into the tent, Taellor was blinking and moving his arm. "I'm fine," he growled at the nearest medic that was fussing at his injuries.

"Do you know where you are?" a healer asked.

"Hospital ward."

"You were out quite a while. Do you remember what happened before you were knocked out?"

Taellor paused in thought as I stepped inside, a smile sticking to my face as he weakly forced himself up.

"There was a mission. Trouble…Grace was in trouble. Is she okay?" Where is she…?"

His eyes finally uncovered me, putting his body at ease. "I'm okay," I assured. "Now that you're awake."

Healers continued to work on the Night Elf, who was easily getting irritated. "And Zen?" he asked with honest concern. "He's okay?"

"He's fine," I answered.

Taellor nodded. "He's been looking over you, I hope?"

I scoffed. "Taellor, you were only out a day and a half."

The elf calmly smiled back. "But still, I'm glad you're okay, and that he was here."

Glaring, I looked over Taellor's head. "You must have bumped your head _really_ badly."

He chuckled. "So I've been told."

I pulled Taellor into an embrace, minding his bandages as he still tensed at contact. "I see you haven't changed a bit," I insisted.

"I won't go down that easily."

"I was so worried Taellor," I pulled back to see his bright eyes. "I missed you. I was scared and all I could remember was our bodies tumbling…"

"It was an accident," he insisted, much like Zen had. "You didn't make that boulder hit my head."

Before I could realize it, I was wiping away tears of relief and joy. "I was scared I'd never talk to you again. And knowing I caused it-"

"Oh, stop!" Taellor looked me over, his hand went to my shoulder, and I found myself wishing I could put my hand in his. "Grace, it looks like you took a good fall, too. That patch-up job on your head needs time to mend. Perhaps you should get some rest as well. You look drained."

Well, I was drained, and until now, I had managed to mentally block out the fact that there were wires coming out of my temple. "But T-"

"I'm fine. The medics want me on bed rest for a couple days to monitor me. And no doubt Fordring will be paying me a visit shortly. I'll explain the accident, Grace. No worries. You go sleep."

Sighing in resignation, I nodded. "Okay. But as soon as I'm awake, I'll stop by."

"It's a deal." Before Taellor could react, I placed another soft kiss on his forehead and left him to rest.

Zen was probably out and about already, so there was no use tracking him down and sharing the good news of Taellor's recovery. Going straight to Zen after visiting Taellor seemed wrong anyway. Was it wrong? Instead, I decided to listen to Taellor and actually catch up on sleep—the worry of the past day had zapped my strength away.

And this time, I slept in my own cot. The stress of Taellor's wellness was lifted, but now I felt uncomfortable in my own tent. It just wasn't the same; without Zen's presence and his scent. If he hadn't come along and…

Growling, I fluffed my pillow rather violently. It was like as soon as a few things settled down, they would procreate new problems. Lucas, for instance, was found, and he wasn't dead. That was one qualm settled. But Lucas wasn't exactly _alive_, either, and that set off a series of complications I didn't even want to think about thinking about.

And this whole Zen ordeal. I had missed him tons, yes, and I had needed to see him. So his arrival had relieved some things. But first he's distant, and it hurts to be near him; and the next moment, he's trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary occurred to make me detest the whole thought! Obviously throwing myself at him didn't do the trick, so what did he even want?

And the worst was knowing that I wanted him. But I knew I didn't want him to feel the same only in certain situations at certain times…

All I could do was take one day at a time. It had gotten me this far, after all…

When I awoke it was past lunch time. It seemed like despite my insignificance to this base, I still managed to remain busy. I needed to visit Taellor, have a meeting with good, chivalrous Gregor about my spirituality, and somehow find Zen and thank him for all of his help the past couple of days.

I arrived at the hospital ward first, where Taellor was lounging around silently. At my arrival, the elf smiled. "How are you feeling?" I asked, taking my usual seat beside his cot.

"Like I fell down a steep cliff," he answered. "How are you?"

"Sore, but improving."

"How're the…crossovers?"

"No more as of yet. But Fordring is making me take these…lessons to strengthen my mind. And I'm pretty much on lockdown. I can't leave the base."

"Join the party," Taellor grumbled. I chuckled, knowing Taellor was half-serious, half-banter. "Although there are advantages to being stuck in bed," he insisted.

"Like what?" I asked curiously.

"I'm out of your hair. You and Zen needed time…to mend, you know."

"Taellor, don't…" My hand went to his, effectively startling the Night Elf. "Thank you so much. For being there for me. It took a Night Elf to show me how to be Human again."

Taellor smirked. "And that's the beauty of the universe, Grace."

It only took a few hours for Gregor to find me, corner me, and sit me down in my tent to start our lessons.

I was kneeling on the cool ground, my patience wearing thin as Gregor sat on my cot. "Close your eyes," he instructed. Begrudgingly I did so, minding how Gregor seemed to calm down his own aura and spread it throughout the tent. I suppose it soothed my edginess the slightest; and so, my eyes remained closed. "How have you kept the crossovers out before?" asked the priest.

"I forced my eyes closed. Eventually, the Lich King lost interest and left me alone."

"So you controlled the physical to affect the mental."

I shrugged. "I guess. But I'm afraid that he'll grow more powerful in my head and start controlling me like every other puppet of his."

"Okay. When he enters your mind, the first thing you must remember is to remain calm." Nodding, I kept my eyes shut. Focusing on Gregor's words was a lot easier when I did so. "Second is to distance yourself from him and put up a barrier he can't see through."

I scoffed. "And how do you suppose I do that, priest Gregor?"

"Closing your eyes was one way. Now we have to work on strengthening your mind."

"Okay, Gregor, I'll play your game. Tell me how."

"Practice." The priest cocked a small grin at the unknown.

I eyes Gregor suspiciously as he stood tall, towering over my seated figure. "And…?"

"Guard your mind, Grace," he commanded, rolling up his billowing sleeves as if he was preparing to dig into soil with his bare hands. "Prepare."

I never asked questions with previous trainers, but I just couldn't see Gregor in a teaching light. "For what?"

"I'm going to make your arm move with my mind control. I expect you to ward me off."

Perhaps I would have done what Gregor said, had my interest not been spiked. I didn't even know Gregor was capable of mind control, and I was contemplating the possibility when suddenly my hand leapt up off my knee on its own accord.

Nothing should surprise me by now, but I still gaped. The arm was still tingling as it returned to its original position in my lap. "How…?"

"Mind controls take discipline. A flinch or two for me, though…is as easy as Stormwind Brie." My arm was still tingling, though it lay motionless now. "Now you must adapt. Stop the mind control."

There was a pause of silence as Gregor's aura seemed to dance around him. My focus locked on my arm, mind commanding it to remain put. Despite my concentration, the arm leapt at Gregor's command anyway. Immediately, I cursed.

"Focus, Grace."

"Do it again, Gregor."

The familiar stillness took over; the calm before Gregor's commandment. My arm muscles tensed now in anticipation, my thoughts again willing my wayward body part to stay put; but again, my arm moved.

Another curse word. Gregor growled my name in warning. "You have to remain calm."

"Give me a countdown," I insisted, eyes never lifting from my arm. I wasn't going to be beaten. I would figure it out.

"Grace, I'm-"

"Gregor."

The priest sighed. "Our final attempt for today. We're both exhausted." It wasn't until now I noticed how dwindled Gregor's usually strong aura had become. The efforts must have their energy costs. "I'll count down. Three…two…one…"

I focused. I received the same result as I had previously. My hands curled into fists. "That's enough," my teacher declared. "Under too much stress; you're not going to respond appropriately. We will continue this another time."

"After dinner?"

"Perhaps right after breakfast tomorrow." At the shift of my aura, Gregor smiled, giving me a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Grace. You'll have plenty of lessons. Give your teacher a break!"

Gregor did look unsteady on his feet as he left my tent, so I tried not to feel too upset at our dismissal. It was near suppertime, and I didn't quite feel a need for social interaction, so I took my stew back into my tent.

I just needed the silence. Sure, Lucas had been found, and I was fairly confident he was in safe hands (as much as a death knight could be). But now, my perception of time was skewed. Everything propelled itself into the future, our preparations forming and closing in on a final battle. For now, the progress snaking up on the present was stifled by busy work and determination. But it was definitely ready to pounce…

I didn't know what to do with Zen, and I didn't know what to feel with Taellor. I missed being a rogue trainee. At the thought, my lip curled into a disgusting sneer.

It only took two days for Taellor to get discharged from bed rest. It was as if the accident had never happened. And over the course of three days, I saw Gregor too many times, and we went over the same thing every time. Focus, Grace. No, now you're thinking too much, try to feel it…trust in the Light. Nothing worked. Gregor would fling my hand every time, and patience was wearing thin for the both of us.

And besides, I hadn't had a single crossover in those three days. It was starting to worry me.

I saw Zen maybe a handful of times. It blew my mind how Zen could avoid me so well once Taellor was off bed rest. It must have become a new talent of the rogue's.

It was day four, and of course, Gregor continued to work with me. For the most part, everything between the priest and me had returned to normal except that he clearly didn't try to physically touch me anymore. Now, Gregor would only touch my arm. With his mind. And, I still couldn't figure out these mental exercises. The young priest finally sat me down after defeating me with his mind games once again. His eyes read of genuine concern. "Grace, do you consider yourself…spiritual?"

Confused, I took a moment to answer. "Spiritual? Like, chanting and praying and stuff?"

Gregor seemed to wince at my dismissal of the matter. "Perhaps if you took a look at yourself holistically…"

I blinked. "Holistically?"

"Your mind, body, _and_ spirit," the priest explained.

Okay, I wouldn't make a snide comment about Gregor's maltreatment of the 'body' aspect. Trust me, the temptation was there. Instead, my eyebrows creased. "I suppose I never…considered it. Rogues aren't normally…"

"I know. Rogues and spirituality are like…well, priests and melee," Gregor compared, grinning. "Not a strength usually. But in your circumstances…"

"I understand. The body I get. It's the mind and spirit I need to strengthen."

"Right. So," Gregor leaned back. "Close your eyes. Meditate in silence."

"But I-"

"Ssh." Gregor shut his eyes. For a moment I sat there, eyes wide open and staring in wonder at the strange man. Panic wanted to quell at my throat. This was _not _something I had experience with. How did he expect me to even…

I inhaled. Control yourself, Grace. It's self-learning. My thoughts flashed back to my first day with Aradar and my escapade within the library. I had to find it myself…

And while I couldn't really relate Aradar to Gregor, I could definitely apply my own experience to the now…

My eyes closed. With my sight shut out, it was always easier to pick up on sounds and auras. And it was so extremely distracting!

But the longer I stayed there, the more I slipped away. No dreams or thoughts, only my presence.

I couldn't focus on time, but when Gregor finally told me I could open my eyes, it felt like I had merely blinked. "How do you feel?" he whispered.

Like my body, mind, and spirit were finally communicating. "Tranquil."

Gregor cocked a small smile in triumph. "That's a great start."

I still wasn't completely back to the present. As I gazed calmly at Gregor, he leaned in and rested his hand near my neck. "Just remember. It's not about keeping him out. It's about keeping yourself intact."

He pulled himself up and exited, leaving me to breathe quietly. It was as if my mind had momentarily reset and had forgotten…everything stressful. Eventually my memories returned, catching up with the rest of me, and dragging my feelings back with them.

Anger at the enemy. Compassion for our victims. Hate for those responsible for my losses, and love…for so many.

But love was never cut and dry. With Dennis, it was a matter of defining love boundaries. With Lucas, it was now a learning love, a strained love, that was unaccepted by him—my brother of all people, shoving me out of harm's way. And Zen…

Some things were still unclear with Zen, but what I was aware of was the undoubting feeling of love for him. Whether it was permissible or even sane was a different story.

And Taellor. I would nearly stop breathing when I would think back to our kiss. Taellor I loved; parts of me wanted him and everything he was. But there was Zen, and there always had been Zen…and denial was a very strong human endeavor…

I stood up, finally finishing my new thoughts. No time for Human emotions when I had a rogue's duty to handle.

It was a bit brighter outside, although the sunshine didn't gratify any heat.

I went to Fordring. A part of me really didn't want to run in to Zen or Taellor—the new calmness I had for my situation was nice and I didn't want it interrupted by stupid boys.

Fordring motioned me in as I peered into his tent. As usual, the officer was busy with his duties. Parchment was rolled up and shoved to the edges of his confined desk, and books and maps were stacked and ready to topple. His quill was dismissed when I walked in, the ink bottle still open. "Sorry if I interrupted," I announced. "I can come back."

"Nonsense, Miss Fulstorm. Sit down." I followed the command. Fordring sat down as I did, his eyes full of concern. It seemed like such little time had passed since our first meeting, and yet Fordring appeared so much older now as he sat patiently across from me. His wrinkles seemed more prominent, hair a bit whiter. "Does something trouble you?"

Something? My problems were so large in number Northrend itself couldn't house them. "I just…wanted to talk" I explained.

"Well, I'm willing to listen."

I pursed my lips, momentarily looking over Fordring. How was he able to stand so tall, without withering from distress?

"It's just…things seem to be getting clearer now. But that also means I've started making revelations about myself…they're a bit haunting." When Fordring didn't react, I continued. "I…I am willing to die for this cause. But sometimes I don't feel like I'm living."

Fordring sighed, his thick hands folding on the desk. "We're at war, Grace. It's understandable to feel such insecurities. Everyone questions themselves. It's Human nature."

"And on top of that, I don't feel like I'm doing my part properly in this war."

"Grace, your abilities are far more helpful than I could have imagined…"

"There's a battle coming up," I stated more than asked. "We both know it, we both sense it. I want to _fight_."

There was a hesitation, and it gave me time to realize this was the reason for my visit. "Grace, you do realize the risks you'd be drawing towards yourself if you fight. If the Lich King finds you…"

"I realize. But I'm a _rogue_ first. I belong out there."

"Think it over, Grace. I know Taellor won't be on the front lines. His body is still far too weak. Instead he'll be manning one of our cannons. I'm sure he would appreciate some help."

"My heart…belongs on the front lines," I whispered. It felt like I was betraying Taellor as I spoke.

"Think it over. Rest on it."

Fordring stood, and I followed his lead. With a handshake I left.

My decision was made already. There wasn't any thinking-over necessary. I had certain duties, and my responsibilities on that front line were the priority. I needed some action to nudge me back into my reckless self that (pretended she) didn't have any feelings. It was easier that way, in some respects. For instance, I wouldn't mind Zen's current wishy-washy behavior, whether affectionate or cold.

I returned lethargically to the tent, expecting solitude. To my surprise, Taellor was nestled into his cot, and though his eyes were closed, his aura was awake and active. He couldn't feign sleep around a fellow rogue.

Taellor seemed to acknowledge the fact as well. His eyes slid open, immediately landing on me. A slight mile formed across slim slips. "You look…drained," he commented simply.

"Coming from a survivor of a fall off a giant cliff?" I asked.

He sighed in resignation as he swung himself upright to face me. "My stamina isn't quite back up to par yet. Fordring insisted on a nap."

"Then nap," I too insisted.

"I'd much rather be in your company." It was pointless to hide my blush from a seasoned rogue, but I turned my face away anyway. "How was training with Gregor?"

I was glad for the shift in attention. "It's…a challenge," I answered honestly.

"I think it's a brilliant idea."

"I'm not a priest," I grumbled.

"No, you're more cunning than that. Rogues know mind games better than the other classes. And your warped connection to the enemy makes you an expert among experts."

"I wish that was the case." I sighed.

"You'll get stronger. It's a necessity for the upcoming battles."

"Which reminds me," I mumbled. "I hear you're manning the cannons for the battle."

Taellor winced visibly. "So it seems. The medics don't want my body under too much stress and harm. So I'm stuck."

"Fordring would rather have me there as well. But…I can't. My rogue instinct _has_ to be there on the front line."

The Night Elf looked me over from his position, ears seemingly more elongated and prominent as he peered sideways. "I understand."

My lips tightened as I looked over the Night Elf rogue. "I know you'd rather be up there, too."

"There isn't much I wouldn't give to do what I do best."

I knew it wasn't for the best, but I gently reached out to touch his hand lying on the cot. The hand didn't move or flinch, but Taellor's eyes did seem to soften and grow weary. "You're in pain," I whispered.

"The scratches are nothing-"

"I'm not talking about your scratches," I explained softly. "What's wrong?"

He paused a moment in thought. "Have you ever wished…some things would be different?"

"All the time," I answered softly.

We remained silent for a moment. Finally, I sighed. "I think you need that nap Fordring was talking about."

Taellor nodded. "I suppose you're right." Swiftly in one move Taellor was lying down, leaving my hand alone and cold on the sheet.

Once Taellor closed his eyes, I stood and leaned bravely into his ear. "But I wouldn't want _you_ to be different. You've kept me alive. In more ways than one."

Taellor's hand went to hold my cheek, his eyes glowing in the lantern's light. "Thank you."

I let my best friend sleep, though it was only dinner time. There was some good news, though—Vii and Kae had finally returned with over forty men from the Vanguard. Graystone must have pulled through for them after all.

Vii had gone straight to Fordring to discuss plans, but Kae greeted me with a genuine smile. "Your efforts seem successful," I commented lightly as Kae fiddled with the straps of his quiver.

"It's more than we expected, but less than we had hoped," he explained. "How are things here?"

"Getting larger and more exciting by the moment."

"Fordring sent for our return. It seems the battle is getting very close."

My lips pulled tight, but I could feel that familiar twinge of exhilaration in my hands as I imagined my fierce daggers within their grasp. "_Very _close."

[end]

* * *

DON'T LEAVE DON'T LEAVE!

I have one question. There's lots of fighting in some forthcoming chapters, and I know that drains some people if there's too much action, blah blah. So I was thinking of doing an insert chapter based on a different character's viewpoint of something monumental in the story.  
Options I thought of were: Zen, when Grace left SW; Zen, when he's injured; Lucas during his troubled times becoming a deathknight OR his transition after Grace finds him. Taellor mulling over his relationship issues.

That's it. If anyone has any preferences, let me know! It would be a nice break, and I'm sure some of you would like to see/read more about a certain part =]


	21. Blood

Hello to my favorite readers!

ALL of you that review are amazing. I smile at every review (even the negative ones. Usually :p) And I'm ecstatic when I'm favorited and read. So thanks to everyone for keeping me so motivated to finish this HUGE piece of work!

And clearly, EVERYONE that reads Rogue's Diary is Team Zen. I'm glad you all have fallen in love with Zen as much as Grace (and I!) have.

SO, without further ado :)

* * *

Book Eleven, Part One

Blood

The fight was closer than anyone (save maybe Fordring and the Lich King) could have thought. A full day had passed, and I had one final encounter with Gregor's teaching.

This time, Gregor walked into the tent with a pair of scissors and gauze. Scrunching up my face, I watched as the priest approached, his grin never fading. "Time to get those buggers out of your forehead," he enthused. My first thought was of the 'bugger' that really bothered me—the Lich King. But then my hand went to my forehead, and I remembered the stitches that sat there that I never had an interest in acknowledging.

"Oh. Now?"

"We could wait," Gregor explained, setting the items off to the side. "But if you ask me, it'd be better now. You wouldn't want to fight a battle with a forehead already sewn together."

"The battle is coming," I muttered. Gregor said nothing, but took a look at my forehead.

I didn't like seeing those scissors so close to my face as he snipped at the thread. And when Gregor pulled the stitches out of their embedding in my skin, I felt every tug. There wasn't pain, but the feeling was uncomfortable and made me shift in my position. After splashing a bit of ointment onto it, Gregor finished.

"It's healed enough," he acknowledged. "I would have given it another day or so, but given our predicament…"

I nodded as Gregor finally sat down in his usual place in front of me, eyes looking me over. Finally, he nodded. "I think you're ready."

"For?" I asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"You made a lot of progress on our last meeting. This is the time you will succeed in our exercise."

I shrugged. "I hope so. Time is dwindling."

"What you did last time was perfect. You're going to do it again now. You're going to prevent my mind control."

I didn't want to seem surprised, but my will couldn't stop my doubt from rising to the surface. "You think so?"

Gregor nodded. "Ready?"

Exhaling, I swung my boot-clad legs over my cot and let them dangle there. Without being asked, I shut my eyes and let my mind wander off like it had previously. It was so easy to go blank, to converge back into myself and think of nothing else; because the nothingness meant no hatred, no love; no anger or sorrow or guilt. No happiness, but no sadness, either…

Being withdrawn into myself made it easier to detect intruders. I could feel Gregor's entry into the depths of my mind, like a tingling sensation. It's hard to describe how to mentally keep something away. I pulled more into myself, imagining a wall between me and the intrusion.

I felt nothing. No more tingling—I grew nervous, thinking maybe I hadn't succeeded and he had already gained full access. I couldn't help but open my eyes; Gregor was looking at me, eyes wide; but a smile was creeping into the corners of his lips. "What?" I asked carefully.

"You did it." Gregor shrugged at his clothes, his sleeves slipping back over his wrists as if he rolled them up in preparation for his tough job. "I meant to move your legs."

"My legs?" I repeated. "You cheated!" I exclaimed playfully.

"I had to have some sort of advantage! But it doesn't matter. You succeeded, Grace. You're getting stronger."

I couldn't help but smile. "Finally."

"It's not the end. There's much more to do. The Lich King is much more capable. And there's always resisting once he gets inside…"

"Thanks Gregor. For helping. You didn't have to."

"I owed you. What I did," he seemed to wince at the unnamed thought, "was inappropriate and wrong. I can't explain how much I regretted-" The priest seemed to trip over his word choice as he paused "D-don't be mistaken, Grace, you're very...desirable! But you were right, Grace, a gracious priest doesn't…do _that_. I've repented. I've prayed for forgiveness. And again, I'm sorry." Gregor's hand went to my knee in a non-romantic gesture of affection. Finally the priest stood, readjusting his tunic. "Don't forget what you've learned. I should go check in with Fordring."

"Okay. Thanks, Father Gregor."

This time, Gregor smiled at the title before standing to leave. "That sounds nice." Silently, he left my humble abode.

At least things were looking up; at least, that is, until the battle. My mind exercises not only protected me from the Lich King; they also left me feeling more in control of my emotions, more understanding of my predicaments.

Yet again, I didn't want to ruin my nice attitude. But I hadn't eaten yet, and surely the supper wouldn't be available much longer. So grudgingly I made my way to the designated rations tent.

Until I was stopped by none other than Taellor and Zen, who were coming down the hill from Fordring's. They were actually _addressing_ each other; no, I noted, now that they drew closer—they were bickering. The pair hadn't caught sight of me yet, and I took the opportunity to back into a corner where a tent's corner hid me.

"—_and it's not safe_," Zen finished.

"It's _war_, Human. Nothing is safe any longer. And Grace is talented and-"

"And that's _all_ you care about! Another rogue at the front to fight!"

"And she's my friend," Taellor growled his correction in a low tone. "It's her choice."

"A friend," Zen spat. "Be serious, Elf. I've seen the way you gravitate toward her. Like she's the only one you see."

It was growing even colder, and the sentence escaped in a wisp of white smoke. I imagine if Taellor's face could redden, it would have. Instead, his fists clenched at his sides. My own fingers were digging into my pant legs as I fought the urge to break up the whole thing.

"Zen," Taellor actually used the other rogue's name as the argument spiraled into seriousness. "Grace is my friend. If you would pay attention to the rest of _your_ surroundings, you would see how _she_ looks at _you_. The longing in her eyes when you turn her away and-"

"_Taellor_," Zen warned, though his eyes were now downcast. "Watch your step, brother."

Suddenly, I didn't want to break it up. I didn't even want to listen or watch; the two hadn't noticed me yet, perhaps I could sneak around…

My heart was panging as Taellor spoke, and I didn't want to hear Zen's reaction. So why was I frozen there?

The pair were usually so calm, like ice on the surface of the water. But so much frustration and resentment had lurked just under the surface for both of them, and now that pretty sheet of ice was cracking and all of the emotions were slipping through a bit at a time.

If they didn't happen to be allies, they'd be at each other's throats. Metaphorically speaking. I hope.

"You see it," Taellor continued with strain. "You know she only wants _you_. But you're overlooking her. Let me tell you, you're not helping her by keeping her away, as much as you think you're protecting her. You're _not_ helping. Then she runs to me for comfort, and _I_ get hurt in the process. And if I were in _your_ place-"

"Don't lecture me about what _you_ would want, Night Elf."

My breath was coming out shaky, chills tickling the back of my neck. Blood rushed to my cheeks.

"I wouldn't pass up a girl like Grace," Taellor finished anyway.

"And you haven't, Taellor." Zen's tone was poisonous.

It was Taellor's turn to look away. "It was a dream. A fleeting dream."

"And how does she taste?"

I nearly gasped in shock. This time, my breathe wouldn't move-it stayed dormant in my lungs, unable to exhale. Had Zen found out about our kiss?

I didn't think I could hear any more-my lungs were beginning to hurt as I held my breath; somehow I managed to back up a few steps, then a few more, until I was out of earshot and my lungs could start working again.

It hurt to breathe.

Taellor had wanted me, as more than a friend—and here he was, side-stepping out of the way to let Zen through, and he even tried to _convince_ Zen of the matter. And I _did_ need Zen in my life, like a moth to a flame—it didn't matter if he intended on just being here, or being _with_ me—I just wanted him near.

But Taellor. My heart wrenched for him. Being near him was damaging to him. _I was hurting him._

And now I felt numb. A different numb—I didn't know what to think or feel.

I went the long way for my dinner. I got a roll and soup and ate in a nearby empty tent. When it was inevitable, I returned to my own tent. The sun had started to set, the cold beginning to settle into my bones. It was finally time to rest after my eventful day.

Taellor was on his cot, sitting up and looking thoughtfully at his hands. "Hey," I mentioned softly, taking my cloaks and boots off and dropping my daggers on the flimsy table that held the lantern. Taellor mumbled a hello as I hopped into my own cot. "Long day?" I asked.

"A bit. Everything seems to be just out of reach."

_The battle_, he was probably thinking. But I thought of his argument with Zen.

I pretended not to know about the earlier confrontation, but Taellor's exhaustion upset me even more as I linked everything together. After a moment of silence, I turned toward my tent mate. "Taellor."

"Hmm."

"Thanks," I began, curling into my warm blankets, "for always sticking up for me."

Even in the dark, I felt Taellor's eyes slide to me as his aura perked in interest. "Did you…earlier, were you…did you see Zen and I…?"

I tried my best to act surprised, and I begged my aura not to rat me out. _You're a rogue, so keep a calm aura like one. _"You and Zen?" I scoffed. "Did you chat about the weather over tea?"

Taellor grumbled inaudibly. "I wish."

"Did something happen?" When Taellor didn't answer, I slumped down a bit into my bed. "I know you two don't get along much, but I appreciate how you put up with him. You're my personal guardian," I giggled.

"Put up with," Taellor growled. "Hardly. It's more like an avoidance." Sleep began to take hold of my heavy eyelids.

"Well, I love having you as a friend, Taellor. I do love you. So thanks for looking out for me like a friend does."

His eyes looked over again, and I was glad my own eyes were casted up toward the canvas of the tent. "You _were_ there, weren't you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I didn't say _that_," I said, yawning and snuggling into my dingy pillow. Taellor said no more; with a soft blow the lantern was extinguished and our conversation with it.

At first, my dream was peaceful. I was back under the massive tree in my mom's backyard, wearing my pretty dress and watching the boys with the sun in my hair. Luke managed to flip Dennis onto the grass as they wrestled. His eyes were brown back then, but glowing with life and happiness. Dennis, despite his disadvantage, was laughing infectiously and growling my brother's name.

I was smiling, so wide it would have hurt my cheeks. The laughter was uplifting and just for a moment I remembered what carefree felt like.

But then the sky quickly grew overcast as clouds took their reign under the sun, and thunder rumbled above. I couldn't pay attention to the boys any longer; my eyes had drifted upward in confusion.

And then the thunder grew louder—loud enough that I could decipher that the rumble was actually roars of screams and yelling. My eyes fell back to the ground, where the grass was now engulfed in orange flames and intimidating flashes of lightning acted as its background. The ground began to shake and rumble, my feet untrustworthy as my hands reached for anything to stabilize me.

_Grace!_

I wanted to scream. I wanted to wake up.

"Grace!"

My eyes snapped open, and momentarily I was relieved—I looked up, where Taellor was hovering over me, still trying to shake me awake.

The quake stopped as Taellor dropped his grip on my shoulders, but as he repeated my name and asked me something, I noticed that the screaming was still ringing in my ears, very much _real _just outside the tent. Deep voices hollered for help, and inhuman roars that answered.

Taellor's lantern was in my face, the flame hurting my eyes. I blinked, hard, and looked up. "What's wrong?"

The Night Elf tossed my daggers into my lap, and I noticed he was already geared up. "It's begun. The battle is here."

"Now?" Quickly I sat myself up, nearly toppling over myself in the haste to retrieve my boots.

Already my adrenaline was on the rise. My shoes and weapons were on, and then my cloak. It took only a few moments, but Taellor had waited for me anyway. We were outside in no time, the sun just beginning to glow on the horizon. Despite the calm arrival of dawn, a scene of chaos was unfolding before me. Every soldier was trying to prepare, arriving right inside our base's front gate. A few men had began their ascent to the titanic cannons above us on the towers.

I couldn't see any looming danger as of yet—except the feeling of darkness that now blanketed our base. My breathing was shallow, and for a moment everything was slowed down. Men ran back and forth, receiving their orders and commands. I saw Kae and Vii (it was hard _not_ to see their figures), and I found myself wishing I had time to see them beforehand, and remembering that Vii's hearthstone was still tucked away in the tent…

It wasn't a dream any longer. My nightmare had sprung to life, but now my teeth chattered and my hands gripped my daggers so hard the muscles twinged in discomfort. I wasn't as scared for my own life; this war had taught me to accept that there were things I may not survive. I was, however, terrified of losing another friend of mine.

And Zen…Losing Zen, after meeting him and after he trained me. After I left him, and yet somehow reunited with him. After everything I had gone through with Zen…

My eyes scanned our army, hoping to find his lean figure. The chaos was difficult to sift through, but I knew where Zen would be. I pushed forward, getting jostled by the others in much heavier (and sharper) armor. Rogues belonged at the front—like poison at the tip of a dagger.

The screaming had calmed down, now that most were outside and setting up for war. My stomach, for once, was knotted in anticipation. I had been fighting for what felt like ages, but never a full scaled battle. Sure, there was Light's Hope. But that had ended abruptly, the fight ceasing before it could form into a massacre for either side.

This was bigger. And dare I mention, scarier.

Most soldiers were now outside the fort, lining up in rows and rows. Swords, shields, maces…

Daggers. A small line of rogues were stabilized near the front. I recognized nobody except Zen, who seemed to be giving his squad of rogues a talk. I wasn't listening—a black line was seeping out of the crevice of Scourgeholme. The black sea of bodies was advancing, sneaking closer to its prey.

I arrived to the right of Zen, who immediately snapped his head over to look at me. "Grace," he said, his low voice a mix of worry and surprise. "It isn't safe here for you."

My eyes remained straight ahead—I couldn't do this right now. Getting emotional over Zen would distract me _and_ him. "Taellor's right. It's a war. There _is_ no safe."

Zen was silent, long enough that the roar ahead of us could get louder. It got Zen's attention—we both looked onward as a familiar shadowy appeared above the enemy's lines, its giant wings webbed and billowing as the wyrm screeched its warning of destruction.

"Grace."

"I may not be able to be with you," I managed to say with a steady voice, "but at least let me fight alongside you."

More wyrms were visible the closer the line of Undead came. The only thing between our line of rogues and the Scourge was a barren earth and a small group of paladins.

Now, our lines of men were silent, and it was the shrieking battle cries of the Undead that met my ears as their pace quickened. They were close enough now that the inhuman, blue eyes were distinctive, even as the light of dawn began to follow their arrival.

The sound wasn't the worst as our army drew their weapons in haste, the boned structures of our adversaries hobbling toward us, crunching the crisp ground below their feet like they were meant to walk the earth. They were closer now, so close that a precise draw of an arrow could tear through one.

And it was so. A line of arrows zipped by, making me jump as they arched above our steadfast numbers and landed with deadly force into the Undead ranks. Some exploded into flames upon landing. Some shattered bones. Some missed a target completely but lit up the ground anyway.

It didn't startle the skeleton army. With a unison, feral shriek the enemies were running, weapons drawn above their shoulders. Something told me the Scourge was more adept with weapons this time.

"The wyrms can blast arcane magic faster than you can process. Stay away from their heads," Zen loudly warned his troop. His head didn't turn, but he did peer at me out of the corner of his eyes. "Stay near me, Grace." Zen had to nearly scream so I could hear. "Stay close."

I nodded. Words wouldn't process through my lips anymore as a mix of terror and adrenaline chilled my spine. I drew one more shaky breath and blinked as I focused on the battle at hand.

The paladins in front beckoned the Light, and together they called forth a floor of consecration. It lit up the ground with a terrible _hiss_, just as the first wave of darkness drew close enough to touch. The stench of burning Undeath plagued my nostrils, and with blinding strength the magic masked the beauty of dawn and I knew that in this nightmare, there was no waking up.

It was a few moments before the enemies broke through our first line of defense. My weapons had been drawn already, lingering at my waist as I crooned for my first strike. I wasn't waiting long—a pair of them was lunging for me, their lust for blood reflecting in their hollow eyes. An axe was now looming above my head, and a sword sweeping toward my stomach. With speed I slashed at the wielder of the sword, managing to stall his attack long enough I could land an elbow into the vulnerable ribcage of the axe-handler.

The axe was momentarily forgotten in the monster's hands as he staggered back and scowled. Before I could act offensively, the sword was swinging again—my daggers somehow trapping the blade mid-swipe. I had to turn my back on the axe and focus on the sword trapped in the jaws of my daggers. Using what leverage I had I flipped the sword out of the skeleton's hands, and it tumbled away, the unarmed monster emitting a growl that could only translate as rage.

My mind was already moving back to the Undead that I had left unsupervised at my back, but my current problem wasn't quite resolved—before I could react a cold, clawed hand had struck my cheek with such a force I was nearly knocked off my feet. I took one staggering step backward as the skeleton before me blurred and refocused a few times. My jaw immediately throbbed; tears fought to surface at the corner of my eyes.

The howl behind me had me quickly recovering. I turned in time to catch the heavy axe with my main dagger, but the force was too great—with a sting that ran from my arm to shoulder the dagger was dislodged and meeting the same fate as the other attacker's sword.

If I had time to curse, I would have. Losing my main dagger was like losing an entire arm.

Having two enemies to worry about was becoming a nuisance. I couldn't really turn my back on the sharp axe in front of me, so while he was winding up for another blow to my head, I landed a good kick straight into his chest. The space gave me enough time to glance behind me and plunge my only dagger into the weaponless enemy. The gush was audible as my blade hit the mark—his Undead heart. Brown liquid oozed down the ivory ribs as he finally fell to the earth the final time.

I exhaled. The heat of battle made my cheeks feel hot as exhaustion began to bite at my adrenaline. I stooped down, my hand clenching my offhand dagger and my eyes searching for my other weapon, when a low rumble of a growl alerted me that my opponent wasn't willing to wait.

"Fine." My dagger was somewhere buried in the snow along the corpse, but one would have to do for now. The off-hand blade slipped out of its victim with a slick tug, and without hesitation my enemy charged, axe drawing back for a killing blow.

I had to duck and evade a swing at my neck, and while I was still on the lower plane I slashed my dagger his way, missing the rib cage and cutting the stomach. The Undead was slightly surprised, his axe lowering long enough to give me another opportunity to thrust my blade into his heart. His screech ended mid-cry, weapon falling uselessly at his side as I pulled my dagger back and watched him collapse. "Smarter," I muttered about my enemies, "but still stupid."

For a moment I stood there, catching my breath and looking at my surroundings. Battles were all around me, the bodies lying mangled in the snow illustrating the destruction. Nothing looked familiar, and the wyrms circling us seemed so surreal as they blasted magic at the soldiers on the ground and in the cannons.

First things were first, I thought. I needed to find my dagger, and quickly. With a hop of a start I strode to the first body, my eyes scanning the ground as I walked, when I was hurled into the air, a huge _boom_ echoing behind me as my body hit the snow. The landing felt like it crushed my ribs into my lungs, but worry had me rolling myself onto my back. Black, ashen snow was now smoking where I had been walking just moments before, and way above it was the wyrm responsible, his wings fully expanded and glowing eyes on me.

The massive mouth opened, and a feral roar ripped through the air and made my ears ring. I wanted to close my eyes so badly, to pretend the enormous Undead wyrm wasn't there. My eyes remained open instead: if it were to end this way, then let me watch.

I heard it inhale. I felt my own breath move with it. It was seconds away from destroying me when a fiery ball crashed into the wyrm's backside, causing it to spin and begin its descent into the ground.

_That was close_. I shook my head, trying to rid of the shock. My eyes caught the familiar glint of an object, and it took me a moment longer to realize it was my dagger, turned up out of the snow due to the explosion. On my hands and knees I made it successfully to the dagger, its hilt now cool as I gripped it in my leather gloves.

In little time I was back on my feet and looking for more danger. I found a few more enemies and took them by surprise—my third had his throat slashed; he never even saw my attack coming from behind him.

Then an Undead, clothed like Clad in raggedy robes that exposed parts of his bones, stood in my way. Though he spoke no words, a slither slipped through his jaw, beckoning me to try and fight him. I took one resolute step forward, my daggers ready to spill more blood.

A purple ball of magic formed at his hands, tinged by black as it grew over time. Before I could react, the warlock had launched it at me, the purple colors hurling toward me.

My arm moved to shield my eyes, but it did no good—I took a direct hit, the light exploding into pieces and buzzing my ears.

It was like his slithering was right next to my ear and a cold chill wrapped around my spine and anchored there as fear for the warlock multiplied by thousands. I trembled, and when the warlock raised his arms again to attack, I flinched, looking away and attempting to pedal backwards as much as I could. My legs gave out—the cold, wet snow sent a shock to my knees, and I watched as the warlock grinned and little black spiders crawled out of his mouth and eye sockets. Bile was beginning to burn up my throat, and I choked a whimper.

_They're not real. They're not real._

The warlock stepped closer, his pace booming. A sallow, pointed finger rose to point at me, and then he was conjuring something in his hands.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but in the darkness of my mind I only saw my _own_ body, mangled, torn, and bloody; my eyes blank. A squeak of disbelief formed at my throat and my eyes were open again. My arms had fallen out in front of me in the snow, and as I raised them to my eyesight, I saw they were bruised and torn in multiple places; the scarlet color of my own blood painted the white snow of my impending death.

Fear had me shaking, and I found myself looking up at the warlock for answers—_or begging for a quick death._

His hands were glowing now, and this time, my fear was unbearable. _No no no,_ I thought. It took me a moment to realize I was saying it out loud, my voice barely recognizable as I stayed rooted in place. "No, no, no…"

I blinked, and when my death didn't come, I looked for my assailant. An arrow was now embedded into his chest, a flash of white hurdling into the warlock's figure, his limb immediately severed off.

Blizz.

Even as the warlock grew motionless in the snow, it took me a handful of long moments to even stop shaking.

"Grace."

A pair of strong arms held me and lifted me back onto my feet. Kae's bulky form slid into my view, and I blinked in realization. His hand tapped my cheek lightly. "Grace, it's okay. Snap out of it."

I could feel my strength returning. "Kae," I whispered.

"It was a fear cast." The sound of the wyrms' arcane magic boomed over our heads, but Kae didn't falter. "It wasn't real. Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you."

Kae patted my shoulder. "No problem. Just promise to stay away from the casters?"

I smiled. "Got it."

Kae and Blizz left to continue fighting. The numbers were dwindling for both sides, but especially the Undead. They had started out with many more than us, but we had proportionally lessened their numbers. We could win this.

It was almost over.

I took a second to refocus, and now I was concerned about the others. Out of everyone, I felt Zen's aura the strongest. _He's alive._

I started my walk towards Zen, remembering his order to stay near him, only to be stopped by more Undead. Two more stood in my path—one with a sword and shield, the other with daggers.

The shield came at me first. He tried to distract me with it as the rogue slipped by and swung his dagger around.

I didn't move fast enough. The small blade cut at my upper arm, a horizontal slash immediately drawing warm blood. A hiss of pain died at my lips as I parried another slash at my throat with my own daggers. Learning from my previous two-on-one spar, I spun around so the other rogue was between me and the Undead wielding the shield. I slashed mercilessly, unrelenting until I finally made contact and nearly severed the rogue's off-hand completely off the bone. It dangled uselessly at his wrist.

I kicked his body, throttling it into his Undead friend. His shield had fallen below his waist as he staggered for balance. The rogue was still between us, but I had to seize my opportunity. With a rock solid fist I punched the rogue in the side of his forehead—the crack of fracturing skull accompanied his fall onto the ground.

My off hand was still recuperating from the hit; my main hand arched around the shield that should have protected the Undead warrior and my blade sliced into its neck just above the clavicle. More blood covered my blade, and a grotesque gargling noise was the only sound he could make. One of his knees hit the snow, the shield slipping out of his claws. When I picked up the gargantuan thing, adrenaline allowed me to disregard its weight and raise it over my head. I brought it down forcefully onto its owners head with a bone-jarring _crunch._

My breathing wanted to wrench itself out of my lungs, my shoulders sore from inhaling. Gingerly I touched the burning slash on my arm, and drew my hand back with a hiss. Blood smudged across my fingers, and light-headedly I made a note to bandage it later.

The wyrms seemed to have disappeared, though some black masses on the battleground floor could very well have been their fallen bodies. The battle was dwindling now, so much that some Undead had already began a retreat.

"Zen." I saw him now, fighting off a pair of his own enemies. He took a good blow to his ribs, and blood was spattered all over his body—including a spray along his jaw line and down his neck. "_Zen!_"

Carefully I took a single step over the shield, nearly losing my footing as I hopped over it. For a moment I stood there, regaining my balance and focusing on my task at hand. I went to take another step when I was stopped mid-thought, my senses momentarily bidding me to focus. Before impact, I had heard it soaring, whirring through the air and finally landing with a thud.

The pain in my back was so fierce that my breath hitched and wouldn't release. I croaked, afraid to look behind me; but I could feel the little prongs tearing into my flesh and the warmth of the pooling blood, the metal teeth so sharp they felt engraved into my shoulder blade.

I looked back and shuddered. The first sight was the throwing disc, the size of my fist, embedded into my back as the color red bled through my armor and down my back. Then I looked over my shoulder, though it seared every muscle in my upper back, and saw the Undead rogue from moments ago, crouched and prepared to throw another disc my way.

Dazed, I slowly turned around toward my attacker. His back arched in warning like a feline, his only hand a flick away from dealing more damage. My blood drained from my face, and it felt like it had traveled down to bleed from my shoulder blade. The liquid was warm and sickening as acid climbed up my throat.

I had to force my lungs to inhale and exhale, and it took most of my strength to keep myself upright and watch the rogue before me. This was it. We were on an equal playing field now—ability wise, at least; of course, he _did_ have the advantage of his throwing weapon—it glinted in the sunlight.

_Grace_.

I couldn't die here, I thought. And it only repeated in my head over and over because it could very well be my death the rogue had in his hand. One good throw to my heart and everything would end here.

Slowly my right hand unsheathed my dagger with a slick metallic sound I had grown accustomed to. The pain worsened no matter how I moved—every motion would tear a bit more into my muscles, wringing a bit more blood out of my system.

But it was life or death now, my dagger the hope of survival, as it had been for my entire rogue life.

We were both ready now. I felt eerily calm; Gregor's lessons had their advantages, especially when death was a whisper away.

The rogue's hand drew back, behind his head where I couldn't see. And then the throwing weapon was again whirring through the air, its teeth snarling towards me. I kept my eyes on its metal, stomach lurching as it neared. In a blink of an eye I raised my dagger, my back ripping in pain—but my move had paid off; the disc ricocheted off my dagger and spiraled off to brush the front of my shoulder. It managed to cut a good gash beneath my collar bone, but with relief I could assure myself that I had survived.

"Grace."

My footing felt shaky below me, though I hadn't moved my legs. I had no other option—with a gasp of pain I drew back my own dagger and hurled it toward my Undead counterpart. It landed nearly dead-center, the skeleton hissing; but he stayed on his feet, claws extended like he was ready to charge.

A shuddered breath escaped my lips, and my blood loss and shock had me fighting to keep my consciousness. I had one more chance. I tried to quickly unsheathe my last dagger, but my brain didn't seem to be communicating with my numbing fingers. Finally it was within my grasp; I looked up to throw my last dagger, but it was too late. The rogue was already slumping to the ground, a different dagger jutting out of his chest to accompany my own blade.

Relief was cut short as my injuries got the best of me: my off-hand dagger slipped from my grasp as I felt my body's awareness slip away.

I meant to turn around and search for Zen—that was what I was doing, I thought—but all I could manage was a shaky reach for my missing dagger I had flung. My knees made contact with the frozen ground once again. This time, I wasn't sure if I'd be getting back up.

"Grace."

Someone touched my back so gently it was nearly forgotten amongst my pain. Another hand was grabbing my right arm, gingerly shaking it in an attempt to stir me to alertness. "Zen," I choked.

"It's me. It's Zen. I'm here."

"I-" _I'm glad you're here._

"Don't talk." There was a pause as Zen looked over my trembling body.

"You killed him, didn't you." I could hardly whisper, and tears were blurring my vision and streaking down my throbbing cheek. "You saved me."

"I thought I told you not to talk." Zen's voice wasn't harsh. It never was harsh when he was truly focused on worrying for my life. "I need to pull this out before it does any more damage." I knew immediately we were talking about the disc decorating my shoulder blade.

"No time," I mustered. "The Scourge…"

"It's over, Grace. Nearly over. Take a deep breath for me, okay?"

This was the most damage I had sustained in a battle by far, I noted, and the pain reflected it. My tolerance of the inflictions was getting thin as my whole body dealt with the loss of blood through shock. My skin was coated in perspiration, the gashes unrelentingly throbbing.

It couldn't be much worse. Trembling under Zen's touch, I gasped in a cool breath, and Zen yanked the teeth out in one short pull. I wrenched backward, my gored flesh oozing more blood as I cried out. My eyelids snapped shut, but even through closed eyes I saw the color scarlet.

I whimpered, even as Zen pulled me protectively into his chest. My teeth were chattering. "Grace." His voice was seared with concern. "Stay with me. Stay with me Grace, please…"

The pain had reached my point of tolerance and left me vulnerable. Quickly my consciousness faded as my head lolled into Zen's chest.

"Grace, you can't leave me again." Zen's voice was in my ear, his tone as brittle as my state.

"Don't leave me," I asked.

"I'm not leaving. I'm right here."

Everything faded to black. I remembered nothing more of the battle.

When I woke up, the first thing I realized was my grogginess. My head felt three times heavier, and my eyelids seemed sewn shut. My second realization was the wish that I hadn't woken up just yet. Everything ached, from my jaw to my feet. Even in my dreary state, the pain from my injuries was prominent.

First the pain, and then my recollections of how I got here arrived. A dull warmth throbbed at my arm, but I felt too stiff to move it into my line of sight. I was propped up on pillows so my back wasn't shearing against the bed, but I was itchy. Uncomfortable, I shrugged, and a piercing pain ripped up my shoulder.

Of course. The throwing discs.

I must have sucked in a breath as I winced. I felt more alert now, and I moved my arm to claw at the itchy bandages, but a warm hand was now on top of mine to stop me. "You're going to rip open your stitches if you do that."

I froze, all discomfort momentarily forgotten. "Zen," I croaked.

He smiled weakly. "Good evening." He half turned, reaching over to the end table and coming back around with a glass of liquid. "Here. You haven't had anything to eat or drink since you fainted."

I took the cup with careful but shaky hands. I wasn't feeling at all hungry, but my throat was so dry it felt scratched on the inside. "How long was I out?" The cup stayed steady in my lips, and I drank graciously…

"A day and a half."

…Until I sputtered, nose scrunching up in resentment of the bittersweet taste. "What _is _this?"

"It's one of Taellor's special teas. It'll keep you hydrated." Zen must have seen the alarm on my face. "Taellor is fine. He had a few arcane burns, but he was treated. He's been worried about you."

"Is everything okay? What about-"

"Everything is fine, Grace," Zen encouraged. I noticed his hand was still set on mine as he spoke. "We won. At least for now."

I sighed.

"That's one thing I never quite understood about you."

I tried to turn more on my side, but another shot of pain halted my attempt as I squeezed Zen's hand. "What's that?" I asked.

"You put everything else first." He leaned back, and somehow he still managed to maintain his mysteriousness after so much time. Maybe it was our separation, I thought bitterly. "In case you haven't noticed, you got pretty well banged up yourself."

"I'm alive because of you," I stated softly.

"Don't be stupid, Grace. You deflected the shot."

"But you _killed_ him."

"I-" Zen looked down, his hand pulling away. "I bet you want to see Taellor. He's been waiting for you to wake up."

"Zen…" I meant to reach for his retreating hand, but the thought of pain had me hesitating. "Okay."

He disappeared, leaving me alone only a moment before Taellor arrived. "So the tables have turned," he commented with a grin.

"It has," I agreed. "Except this time, it's not your fault I'm like this. It's my own."

"Hey." Taellor warned as he effortlessly slinked into the chair beside me. In the minimal light, I saw the arcane burns Zen had mentioned—they splotched the left side of his neck and it spread down his shoulder, the lining a soft silver against his blue skin. "You look…tired."

"Tired," I snarled. "That's it? Tired?"

"I was being optimistic. You look like hell."

I smirked. "Like I've been through a war?"

"Precisely."

"You always know how to make me feel better," I mentioned, trying to pull myself upright without knocking my own breathe out of me.

"Don't get up," Taellor berated. "You need more rest. I just wanted to pop in and make sure you were okay."

"Well, I'm alive," I acknowledged. "'Okay' is a totally different plateau."

Taellor grimaced, though his eyes lit up as he looked me over. "You _are_ okay, Grace. You look beautiful."

I snorted, minding how the force caused a tickle in my throat, and coughed. In one movement Taellor pushed my glass closer to my mouth. "Didn't you say I looked like hell a moment ago?" I inquired, wincing as I sipped at the tea.

"You can be both."

I huffed again. It was all I could do with my limited energy.

Taellor stood. "Drink that tea. Get some rest. I'm sure Zen wouldn't want to be away from you long."

"Why would that be."

"Believe it or not, he hasn't left your side since he found you." _Rescued me_, I wanted to correct him. I exhaled instead. The Night Elf patted my uninjured arm gently. "I'll be back." Silently I nodded. My eyes begged for sleep, but as long as the Lich King was around, I really couldn't rest.

And he was still alive. I felt it. He wouldn't show up at a meaningless battle, but I would continue to kill his minions until I reached him; I vowed it.

My head didn't want any more stress. Sleep sounded nice. I didn't even notice Zen's aura approach, I was so exhausted. "You're back," I whispered, cracking an eye open.

Zen held back a frown, though his eyebrows pinched in confusion. "Should I leave?"

"No." I closed my eyes to avoid his intense gaze. "I'm glad you're here." I hesitated, hoping Zen would speak so I wouldn't have to embarrass myself. "I'm glad you made it to Northrend."

"Well, the more you do for SI:7, the more you get in return." There was that stupid mantra again.

"What do you mean?"

"Grace." He seemed to chuckle my name. "I requested the transfer here."

My eyes slipped open, surprise getting the best of me. "You what?"

"SI:7 didn't hesitate in accepting my request. My recruitment skills were handy here."

"So that's how you got here so fast."

"That's hardly the _only_ reason. Oh," Zen fidgeted into his jacket, "and there's this." Zen held out his fist, then opening it to reveal an SI:7 pin. _My_ SI:7 pin. He must have caught how my heart skipped a beat, and confusion kept me from uttering a word. "SI:7 wanted you to have it… _I _thought you should have it."

My throat was scratchy still, but this time it wasn't the dehydration. "I can't," I whispered.

"Grace, you're part of the team."

"I _left_ SI:7," I reminded the other rogue. "I left without permission and-"

"You don't want to be a part of the base that created you?" Zen asked, his voice cinching at his idea of an insult.

"_No_," I answered urgently. "I…I don't deserve to stay, Zen…I left…"

"It doesn't matter. I…I never reported your leave. Jared couldn't, either."

"You guys could get into serious trouble!" I growled.

Zen ignored my remark. "You need sleep, Grace." He nudged the pin into my forearm, and when I didn't take it, he placed it on the sheet of the bed near my chin. Zen leaned over my bed quietly, and my eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched my forehead gently. "Goodnight," he whispered. By the time I grew the courage to open my eyes, Zen was gone.

Sleep wasn't difficult. When I awoke, the pain was still there, but at least I felt more alert.

And it was dark. The wind whistled through the tent's fabric, and the only light supply was a lantern in the far corner on the table.

My muscles felt rigid and terribly worn, and I decided it was worth the shooting pains if I could pull myself up and stretch. I lifted my arm, trying to position my body to pull up, when I found my SI:7 pin I had somehow fallen asleep on. The badge's distinct form left a star-shaped imprint into my forearm, and grudgingly I picked up the stupid thing.

I wasn't in my bloody clothes from battle. Atop several layers of bandages and gauze, I was wearing a thick nightgown with long sleeves and a hem that fell to my ankles. From my compromising position on the bed, I spotted my clothes on a table near the curtain. Someone had washed the scarlet color out of the threads; although a faded pink still dyed my cotton sleeve that had been cut (it was also neatly sewn back together).

Now I was even more determined to get up. One hand gripped the bed sheet, the other clutching the wooden bed post, and I winced. Already I was fighting back watering eyes.

Numbly I counted to three. Then I cursed, unable to move out of fear. _Rogues don't fear_, I growled angrily at myself. This time, I counted to five, my arms straining, and I bit my lip and heaved my body upright.

I choked on a howl of pain, the taste of blood in my mouth as I bit my lip a tad too hard. For a moment I sat there, halfway off the bed, as the fire ripped through my shoulder blade and spread down my back. So help me, if I ripped out my stitches…

As of yet, I didn't feel any blood resurface from my wounds, so clumsily I pulled myself on my feet. I swayed a bit, hand moving out to steady my balance, and took three steps toward the table.

Now that I clutched my outfit in my hand, the challenge of actually _changing_ into them prompted my mind to start churning. Sighing, I rummaged through the material and found my pants. Again I was staggering, reeling backwards to set myself back on the bed and toss my articles onto it beside me. My SI:7 pin shared the same fate, and with grim determination I held up my trousers.

It took five times as long to get them on, and seven times the discomfort, pain, and whimpers, but I got them on. I used my good arm to take the gown off, my right shoulder immobile, and threw it sourly across the room.

I successfully got the cotton blouse around my neck, and then my bad arm; by the time I finished my task I was panting and sweating in exhaustion.

It was then I realized I really didn't have any other plans after that. Judging by the silence and darkened sky, I could assume it was the middle of the night and everyone had expired to bed.

I intended to sidle back onto my bed and rest for a few moments to catch my breath, but I ended up falling asleep yet again, a half-wince on my face as I rested on my shoulder blade and clutched my SI:7 pin in my fingers.

[end]

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I know, a strange place to stop, but I had to!


	22. Blood, Pt 2

So I'm going to try to start updating more often, since I finished writing and all. lol.

* * *

**Book Ten, Part Two**

**Blood**

Abruptly I opened my eyes, my senses spiking and actually stirring me awake. I found myself wishing the pain had subsided with rest, but as I rolled onto my good side I realized how mistaken that wish was.

The pain had me hissing, but what caught the bulk of my attention was Zen's presence. He wasn't sitting this time, and his aura was as rigid as his shoulders as he looked me over. "Zen," I breathed, "what's wrong?"

He looked over his shoulders, but his focus didn't seem to tear away from me. In a blink his eyes were locked back onto mine. "I wanted to say goodbye quickly before I left-"

"You're _leaving_?" I asked, my voice straining for a number of reasons.

"Grace." Even in minimal light, I found a trace of an amusing smile on his face. His body drew in a little closer. "It's only temporary. Fordring had requested anyone able to assist in the next battle."

"Another battle? We just fought and I'm sure most of us aren't ready to-"

"We're not alone. This time, Darion had pulled through. We meet the death knights at the Pinnacle."

At the mention of the death knights, I clenched the bed and forced myself upright through the pain. "I'm coming with you. I _have_ to-" I toppled off the cot, vision blotched as vertigo took hold.

A pair of strong arms kept me staggering onto my feet. When my vision cleared, Zen's angelic face was a breath away. "You can't go, Grace. It's a _battle_ and you can't even stand."

"But-"

"Taellor," Zen called. The elf arrived promptly, causing me to wonder how I hadn't sensed him so close and put it together when Zen had glanced outside. "Taellor's going to make sure you stay out of trouble. And make sure you don't kill yourself playing dress up overnight…"

I didn't even acknowledge the attempt at humor. "You can't leave me here!" I begged. "Lucas will be there-"

"It's _dangerous_."

"Taellor, please…"

"Zen's right." It must have taken all of his strength for Taellor to admit. "You'd be killed."

Tears were pricking at my eyes as I panicked. "Zen, you can't _leave_."

"Lucas would _not_ allow you to-"

"What if you don't come back?" I asked in a whisper.

Zen's mouth opened, but when words didn't form, he exhaled and pulled me into a gentle hug. The tinge of pain in my back didn't seem so bad then. "I _will_ come back." Pulling away, Zen's hand went to clasp my cheek, and I released a shaky breath at the contact. It was the most intimate Zen had probably ever acted, and I could see sincerity in his eyes as he touched me. "I'll take you to see him when it's over. I'll come back, okay?"

I nodded numbly, in a daze until Zen's lips touched my own. The warmth of his lips was like fire and ice, and for a moment my breathing and thoughts completely halted. I was taken by surprise, my body melting into his as the kiss deepened. Shocked, I allowed the kiss to evolve, my hand moving to Zen's waist as my eagerness surfaced.

It was more than I had ever expected from Zen, but now that he was in my arms, I never wanted it to stop. Part of me feared I was letting him go with a final goodbye.

My heart fluttered as all of the pain and uncertainty that engrossed Zen and I momentarily resolved. For at least this moment, Zen's feelings were clear. There was a smolder of passion underlying Zen' actions as his lips grazed my own. I found myself hoping it wasn't a dream.

The moment passed so quickly, though it felt forever in Zen's arms. He pulled away carefully, eyes never lifting off mine. His fingers brushed away a trailing tear as he forced a smile. "Goodbye, Grace."  
I shuddered as Zen pulled away, the absence of his warmth leaving goose bumps on my bare skin. My mouth couldn't form a goodbye as Zen stepped away.

The Human rogue turned, walking by the Night Elf. Taellor's body tensed as he watched Zen leave the tent. The two rogues exchanged glances that could have been animosity, but in my dreaming state, I couldn't focus well. My arms folded as Zen's aura slipped from my senses, and the reality of what happened had my heart thudding through my rib cage.

"Grace, maybe you should sit down."

Nodding, I turned to sit as Taellor came over to help me up. His grip was gentle as he lifted me onto the cot. "Here." A glass of water was in my hands, and I brought it to my lips gratefully.

After I felt a tad better, I lay on my good shoulder and exhaled. Everything associated with happiness seemed just out of reach.

And those last few moments with Zen. It had happened, I finally decided. My lips still tingled, yearning for Zen's again, and my heart wouldn't stop pounding. But was it _real_? A true kiss from the one man I yearned for?

It had seemed real—I felt the urgency in Zen's lips as we kissed. But then it was over, and the look Zen shot Taellor was one of ownership. We'd shared something special, and then he had given a smug look saying he had won, after all.

Then there was always how his aura could snap back to vacant with a blink of an eye. But he was a rogue, I reminded myself. And very good at controlling his emotions.

And very good at deceit.

Was it an act?

All I knew was how it had made me feel. And that Zen _had_ to come back. Not only because I had to see Lucas, but because Zen had to explain that kiss and his intentions. Okay, so I had left him initially in an attempt to protect him; but it didn't make it any easier to deal with my troubles. Every passing moment away from Zen hurt a little more.

And there was always that possibility—a very high one—that Zen would never return. Maybe it wouldn't happen today, or tomorrow, but Risk didn't care what day it was or when death was more convenient.

I had accepted that when I accepted my new life as a rogue of the Alliance.

_But nothing was black and white._ I wanted to growl and cry at the same time. Not with Dennis, not with Lucas, not with Taellor or Zen or Gregor or the Alliance or Horde…

It would be my fortune. Count on my story to end in tragedy—my true love comes around and we share a departing kiss…and then he falls in battle, and I'm left heart-broken and emotionless as ever, left to my heartless rogue lifestyle once more, and this time _alone _for good.

"Grace?"

"He has to come back," I announced.

Taellor said nothing but patted my arm gently. I contemplated falling back asleep to pass the time and dull the pain, but someone at the curtain distracted my senses.

"Gregor." Taellor's tone was actually neutral, though I knew he still owned some animosity toward him. The priest nodded his greeting; in his hands were rolls of gauze and scissors, as well as vials of liquids.

"Always the one to bring such good news," I growled in anticipation.

"I have to check the sutures and change your dressings," Gregor reaffirmed lightly.

I hissed preemptively. "How about a strong antidote for pain, doctor Gregor?"

"He who suffers no pain does not live," he recited in a calm, collected voice as he delicately slipped the equipment onto my table.

"_Antidote_, not _anecdote_," I growled. Gregor chuckled, his eyes turning over my covered wounds.

"I didn't know priests had a sense of humor," Taellor commented, still positioned in the corner as he folded his arms.

"We wear dresses in battle," Gregor said, "we _have_ to own some sort of sense of humor."

I wanted to chuckle in amusement, but Gregor's ice-cold hands were already peeling at the heavy bandages below my left collarbone. "Hmm," the priest hummed. "I think we'll have to take this shirt off. I'll have to rewrap the bandages."

Sighing, I consented with a nod and attempted to sit up. Gregor assisted, and Taellor appeared at my side with a blanket, his hands quickly moving to give me some sort of decency as the shirt was peeled off my sticky skin.

A small wince jerked at my face as a piece of adhesive took some skin off with it. Once the stitches felt exposed, I took a glance at the handiwork. Five small stitches were sewn closely together. There was still a little dried blood surrounding the string, which Gregor took note of. He nodded as he grabbed a gray vial and cloth, saturated it, and dabbed gently at the site.

It stung a bit, and I hissed—Gregor's hush was just loud enough to drown my noise. "It's healing well. No redness or swelling…" The priest picked up another bottle and applied a light coat of something sweet smelling on it. "That should do well." As he patted the wound dry (another uncomfortable action), I looked him over with glossy eyes. "Why aren't you off fighting?"

"Some are fighting. Others sustained injuries that kept them here. I volunteered to stay behind and help out."

Gregor grabbed more bandages and pads, but before he covered my sutures he hovered his hand over the wound, and I felt the familiar warmth as the Light spread across my chest.

It felt soothing, but my good arm reached over and grabbed Gregor's hand. "Don't," I muttered, a tad breathless.

"Grace-?"

"You're exhausted," I stated. "You have to work harder to use the Light. Use it on someone else who _really_ needs the Light's aid."

"You're hurt," Gregor explained.

"I'm not dying. Others are."

The priest tightened his lips, as if it was against his better judgment, but his hand pulled anyway and he continued to wrap it in gauze. The material was a bit excessive—it wrapped over my affected shoulder, under, and then across and over my opposite shoulder. It was layered multiple times in that sequence.

Then I had to roll over clumsily and let Gregor get a look at wound number two. I knew not to expect a field of roses when it came to comfort level—unless of course, we were talking about the thorns.

Even removing the bandages was painful—they overlapped my newer gauze, so Gregor snipped the material off. But when the bandage pad was removed, I felt my wound go with it.

I cursed in a low growl, my limbs already shaking as I guarded from Gregor's touch. This time, I wasn't hushed. "Sorry," Gregor consoled. Every tug was a prick of burning pain as Gregor manipulated the multiple tears in the skin. "They aren't large cuts," the priest explained. "But the lacerations were moderately deep. I didn't want to stitch them just yet, I wanted them to start healing from the inside out."

My lip pulled into a snarl. That was a pretty picture. "Aren't they going to bleed easily?" I groaned. Blotches of hot and cold sweat were forming down my spine and spotting my forehead.

"They would be, but a little packing and holy Light, and they're coming along fine."

"No more Light," I warned.

"I forgot you had a deathbed wish to bleed out on the sheets," Gregor commented sarcastically.

"I won't-"

"Grace, you're far too active. You'll rip them open. If you want to be up and running again any time in the near future, I'll have to use the Light."

Stupid priest. "Fine."

Gregor had to remove the packing in some of the more brutal slashes, which caused tears to slip down my face. The fire was returning, almost as remarkable as the initial injury—minus the shock and blood loss.

Eventually, the sensation dulled. My body had finally acclimated to the pain. Once everything was redone, Gregor's hands grazed my shoulder blade and a healing touch left my discomfort much more tolerable.

"Better?" he asked.

"When will they be stitched?" I asked.

"Very soon. Tomorrow, if I decide the tissue is healthy enough."

Carefully, I was wrapped in more gauze. The layers were thick, hot, and itchy, but the Light always had a calming effect.

"How's your arm?"

I held up the affected right limp, choking back the urge to say enough was enough. Gregor unwrapped it quickly, revealing the six stitches. "Good. This one was minor." With that he rewrapped it and set my arm down. "I'd hate to wake a sleeping Vrykul," the priest began, "but how are the headaches?"

I shrugged. "No headaches. Maybe you cured me."

Gregor grimaced. "We'll keep monitoring it. You're very vulnerable right now."

"I know, I know."

"Okay, okay. Any changes or uneasiness about anything, and you'll seek me out." It was fact rather than a question, but I nodded anyway. "I'll try to make my rounds shortly."

After patting me on the hand, Gregor dismissed himself, and Taellor finally peeled himself off the wall and sat in the chair at my bedside. "I need to stop this near-death thing," I grumbled. "It's completely uncomfortable."

"I can safely say I've been there as well."

Taellor left only to grab me lunch after he made me promise I wouldn't try running off. _Rogue's honor_, I chided.

I was too tired to try anything stupid, but the pain control had me intent on getting myself upright, at least. My back ached and bones complained, but I finally was able to sit up. A throb was forming behind my eyes, but it was tolerable.

_Just don't let it be _him, I thought.

Carefully I stood on two feet, the stretch a relief for my sore body. If I was going to see Lucas, I had to get some mobility. Right at the moment I felt like a cross between and old retired grandfather and a mobile, Undead carcass.

_What if I lost Lucas?_

Lucas and Zen. Why couldn't it just be me? I would trade my life for either of theirs. I would do anything that would promise their safety. Now I waited. And suffered. Physically and mentally.

Finally Taellor returned, and after seeing me up and standing, his eyes grew suspicious. "I just wanted to stretch," I explained innocently.

"Mhm." Taellor placed the bowl of soup on the table as I gracefully pulled myself back on the bed and continued to collapse into the headboard. "Here." Taellor's strong hands pulled me back up so I could eat.

I sighed. "You shouldn't have to babysit me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, maybe I prefer your company," Taellor suggested, the soup now in my hands. I didn't feel too hungry, but my stomach growled in disagreement. "Besides, everyone else worth talking to is gone."

"Did Vii and Kae go?"

"Yes. But Blizz has to rest. One of those things landed an arrow into her hind leg."

"At least they're alive." I shook my head. "Where were the death knights? They're supposed to help. We need help. Our numbers are dwindling…"

"They're helping in their own way, on their own front," Taellor answered. "We're lucky for their assistance at the pinnacle."

"I miss my brother," I sighed. "And I don't even know if he's capable of missing me."

"Don't talk like that," Taellor berated softly. I slipped a spoonful of warm broth into my mouth and savored the salty taste.

"Do you ever wish you had a normal life?" I asked quietly. The Night Elf shifted in the small seat, his arm propped on the end table.

"Sometimes. But then I think of how boring it'd be."

I scoffed with a slight smile. "You mean safe."

"Well, what would you choose?" Taellor asked. Blinking, I could only contemplate it for a moment.

My head pounded, the pressure coming all at once and forcing me to wince. Immediately I knew the cause. This time though, I didn't drift away completely. My eyes squeezed shut, and I took the opportunity to use Gregor's training and put up my barriers.

_Leave no survivors!_

It was the same cold, chilling voice that always haunted my mind. I felt so violated, and I'd had enough. My ability to defend my mind had grown.

_Feast upon the flesh of the…_

The voice faded. I stayed there, closed up, until my body was too weak to hold on. When I opened my eyes, Taellor was blurry, but his eyes held interest. "It's started," I whispered. "The battle began."

"How many were there?"

"I don't know. I-I blocked it out. He wasn't addressing me this time; I thought it'd make good practice."

"That's amazing."

My fingers rubbed at my temples. "What?"

"Your aura. It…vanished. I nearly couldn't sense it."

"Gregor taught me well, I suppose."

"You are…such a rogue. It's ridiculous."

I shrugged. "And _that's_ thanks to Zen."

Taellor chuckled. "Someday you'll realize how good you are. And everyone else will, too."

The soup was starting to cool in my hands, but I wasn't too worried about it. There was another battle just past the cliffs. I had seen the pinnacle before, and the amount of Scourge that had habited Scourgeholme.

I could still lose the ones I loved. But that was war. And I was _sitting_ here.

"What if they lose?" I asked. "What if they are overpowered? The Scourge could advance and take-"

"I don't think they'd advance. And I don't think we're going to lose. We have the death knights, and some of the best paladins and other soldiers that I've ever met."

"You're so confident."

Taellor wanted me to sleep, but I begged enough that he let me walk around the tent a bit (with his assistance). My good arm draped over Taellor's shoulder as I walked. I didn't stumble, but the discomfort had me stopping frequently for rest.

The movement had me growing weary quickly. We walked back to my bed, passing numerous cubicles closed off by curtains. Sleep was a bit more difficult. My body wanted to rest badly, but thoughts of the battle at the pinnacle wouldn't wane. Eventually I drifted into sleep. It was worth the wait—in sleep, there was no pain.

Taellor woke me up for dinner. I hadn't eaten much for lunch, so I welcomed the food. As I munched on a roll of bread, the pain in my shoulder began to radiate.

"Gregor stopped by while you slept. You seemed well so he said he'd come by later. I could fetch him…"

"No, I'm okay."

"How's your head?"

"Okay, for now."

"And your stitches?"

I winced. "Tolerable."

Somehow we got caught up in a debate between dual wielding swords or daggers. Looking back it probably was Taellor's attempt at keeping my mind off of things.

Nightfall settled in. I was growing nervous; a dry lump was forming in my throat. We hadn't heard yet from our front lines, but we also hadn't been attacked, either.

And it hurt so bad to move, but anxiety had me sitting up and attempting to ace. Taellor, of course, was weary, but he allowed it. Eventually I could walk down the hall and back on my own, but Taellor's eyes continued to watch cautiously.

I was cold. Carefully I wrapped my arms around myself, the bandages tugging and pulling at my stitches.

"Grace."

Exhaling, I glanced over at the Night Elf. "Taellor?"

"You're shivering."

"We're in Northrend."

Taellor's chuckle was always infectious; it made me crack a smile as he slipped off his designated chair. In a smooth gesture only a rogue was capable of he untied his cloak and approached quietly. "You're cold," he repeated, but now his chest was a lean away, his arms wrapping around me.

For a moment I had lost his intentions in the depths of my memory. For a moment we were back in his tent, and I was yearning for a kiss…

The undeniable rush of blood arrived upon my cheeks, even as Taellor's cloak was laid on my shoulders. His elongated fingers tightened around my comparably small frame, and once again we were both caught in the moment, unable to form the appropriate words.

"Grace."

I froze, Zen's aura just now creeping into my radar. Curse my injuries for impairing my senses. And curse my knack for being caught in the most awkward situations.

Taellor and I pulled away at the same time, as if we were caught doing something naughty.

"Zen," I gasped, unable to hide my excitement. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms, but my sensible side held the urge at bay. "My brother, he's alive?"

The rogue took another step forward, and he winced as his left leg advanced. "As alive as a death knight can be." Zen, in the lantern light, had seemed perfectly fine. But as he drew closer, I noticed the crimson stains on his clothing. His left eye seemed a bit swollen and purpled, but I saw no other wounds except his wince as he stepped forward.

"Are—are you okay?" I asked. Carefully I reached out to Zen's bruised cheekbone, his skin still smooth. Zen's hand rose, and expectantly I went to withdraw my touch, but Zen's hand now held mine where it was.

"I'm fine. The battle was won. Are you okay?"

I smiled faintly. "I'm better now."  
"Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"She shouldn't be," Taellor warned.

I nearly growled at him. He was perfectly fine with me walking down the hallways when his body was there for support. "I'm fine," I stated thickly, trying to hide my anger.

Zen looked me over. "I may be able to carry you if you can't walk. But he's right…"

"Maybe you should wait," suggest Taellor.

"No, I'm going _now_," I declared. "The death knights aren't going to hang around." My irritation was beginning to surface. I liked it better when Zen and Taellor_ didn't _agree!

"Okay, come on."  
Zen helped me put on my other layers after removing Taellor's cloak from my shoulders; his eyes shot me a vigilant look as I bit my lip to hide my discomfort.

"Taellor." Zen's hand supported my back as I stood. "You're highest in command here at the moment. The other officers will be back soon." Zen stepped and had to inhale. "But there's more to be done past the breach. You may be called on to assist."

The other rogue nodded in understanding. "I'll be waiting."

I smiled. "Bye, Taellor."  
"Good luck, Grace."

I managed to hobble out into the cold darkness, the sun already beginning its descent. Immediately I wanted to walk in the direction of Whiplash, but Zen held me in place. "What?" I asked.

"You're not going to ride alone," Zen explained simply.

"But Whiplash…"

Zen sighed, his patience thin. "Okay, we'll ride Whiplash."

When we arrived, my horse stirred in her stall with excitement. And when Zen approached, putting her saddle on, Whiplash gave a scruffy ninny. "It's okay," I soothed, petting the hair on her forehead. Whiplash nuzzled me affectionately and Zen was finished in no time.

With some complications we were both on. The horse shuffled a bit at the extra weight, bringing me back to memories of Whiplash throwing me off into the dirt. But things had changed, and I trusted her now.

I sat behind Zen, my arm without the stitched shoulder blade wrapped around his firm stomach. The gait as we traveled was difficult to cope with, but the thought of what I had to gain had me holding on. "You seem uptight," Zen called, turning the slightest to glance at me.

"I'm just…anxious. Luke…he's different now, but he's still my brother."

"He seemed to be looking forward to you," Zen said, his grip still set on the reigns. "And if anyone can make him feel alive again, it's you, Grace."

Confused, I cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"You have this fiery passion about you that's contagious," Zen explained over his shoulder. "You…showed me how to live again. You can do it for Lucas, too."

I tightened my grip on Zen's torso, my cheek resting between his shoulders. "I think I'm dreaming."

"Well, you better wake up. We're here."

Whiplash trotted around the entrance, where the wooden supports were charred and destroyed. An unsettling fog had arrived beyond the pinnacle, but it couldn't mask the stench of undeath across the lands.

"But-"

"Like I said, there's more to be done. Some of them retreated. Some of our own are unaccounted for, and Fordring wanted to gather a search and destroy party."

"You think they turned the men they kidnapped?" I asked.

"Not sure. But Fordring still holds on to hope."

Whiplash managed to travel up the steep cliff, and I noticed already there were builders—bearing ragged tabards of the Expedition, already beginning foundations for a fort. It was very congested atop here, but I was alarmed anyway—it didn't seem like a place death knights would stay.

"Lieutenant Fulstorm," Zen called. I looked in the direction he spoke, my eyes catching view of Lucas' broad figure as his glowing eyes approached.

Relief and happiness overwhelmed me, and tears were forming even as Zen helped me down. Lucas looked no different. His skin was still dusky and anemic-looking, his veins green but not pulsing with life like ours. Still, his face was familiar, and his lips pulled into a tight smile.

He reached me first, his arms hesitant as conflict flashed across his face. I saved Lucas the torment. Without a moment's hesitation I took my brother into my arms for a hug. If possible, Lucas froze, breathe stagnant. But he returned the embrace after a long pause, and he felt warm again. "Gracie." It was the name he used to call me when we were little. "You're hurt."

_Don't remind me_. I chose to ignore the remark, pulling away and smiling. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Lucas didn't acknowledge my change in subject. His hand gently rolled over to my wounded shoulder, as if he could visualize where the affliction was beneath the layers of clothes and bandages. "What happened?" I wished he would sound more concerned; even with my knowledge of Lucas' condition, it still hurt to see him so distant. Part of me wondered if he was feigning—pretending to care so he could pretend everything was okay. And I wondered how much effort it probably took him to _feel_—and a twinge of guilt had me simply enjoying his presence.

"Just a throwing star," I answered.

"Or two," Zen corrected loudly enough for my brother to hear. When Lucas and I both shot the rogue a cautionary look, he grinned. "I'm…going to put Whiplash away."

As I watched Zen continue past us, a strange, tingling sensation began to crawl across my spine and toward my shoulder blade where my stitches sat. Then it grew in intensity, feeling as if a flame was held up to the skin. Hissing, I turned, torn between looking at my burning shoulder or at my responsible brother.

The heat was so powerful chills were forming down my arms, liquid pricking at my eyes as a yelp strained at my throat. With a shaky hand I grabbed Lucas' forearm. "_Lucas_," I croaked, fearing my brother's wrath once again.

His other hand gently settled on my neck, like he always had before this mess of a war. And then the pain subsided, and to my relief I was still alive.

My body was shivering, and now I mustered the courage to look at Lucas. There wasn't any hatred or malice in his eyes, as they had been during our battle. A smile formed on his lips, the gesture strange on his new pale features. "Well?" he asked. "Does it feel better?"

With creased eyebrows I opened my mouth to question Lucas, but then I realized the absence of pain in my back. "Lucas," I berated, my arm trying to find the stitches in my back—and couldn't. "You…you didn't have to…"

"Of course I had to," Lucas defended. "You're my sister."

"But…I didn't want the others to heal me either," I explained. "It would waste too much energy and you just _fought_…"

"Grace," Lucas began. "I'm a death knight. I can handle a little more than a handful of animalistic fiends and a superficial heal. Besides, I wasn't sure how well you would take to the magic, but it was better than I expected."

"Take to it?" I repeated.

"Your body is Human. Alive and intact. The Light heals you well. My runes aren't of your realm. But _you_, Grace, are more related to my kind than other Humans. Your blood's composition-"

"It's different," I finished. "You can heal me because I'm more like _you_ than you thought."

"It seems so."

A slight, meek smile peeled at my lips. "We're still related. Even through all of this death."

"You're alive, Grace. I didn't think I could feel anything, but I'm definitely jealous."

"Lucas," I began carefully. "What did they do…are you truly…raised from the dead?"

The question had coaxed my brother into a reflective silence as he clenched his jaw. "He…he did what he wished to me. To us. He broke us. And if I'm not dead, then I may as well be. Everything is just…meaningless."

"Undead or not, you're here, and I'm thankful," I told my brother. "You disappeared and I…I just _left_. I had to find you. I knew I would. But I was so worried."

"No need to worry, Grace," Lucas consoled thinly. "I'm already dead, so I can't die."

"What if you're _not_ dead?" I proposed loudly, causing Lucas to turn his head and freeze like a cat ready to pounce.

"Grace, I don't need your theories of hope…"

"I know you can't escape from the memories of what happened. From the regret. You're _scared_. But you can be like the Undead without being _of _them and I'm proof!"

"Grace, it's a lost cause."

"I'm not giving up on you," I stated.

"Lieutenant Ashthorn." Zen's last name caught my attention, and without intending to I looked over for him. Fordring had found him.

"Zen seems…pleasant," Lucas stated.

My eyebrow perked. "Zen? He trained me, so he can't be that bad."

"He really cares about you."

I found myself sighing. "Maybe. I don't know."  
"You don't know?"

"He-" I pursed my lips. "It's just complicated."

The rogue in question was talking to Fordring still, but even s I watched him his eyes drifted to meet mine. I looked away. "I know I'm Undead and all," Lucas surmised, "but I think life is short. Live your life while you're still alive."

Lucas' bright blue eyes wouldn't tear off me. The blue wasn't what he had been born with. He had brown eyes like my father and I, but things change and now his eyes were blue.

And mine purple.

I didn't love my brother any less and I couldn't cherish him any more.

"Lieutenant Fulstorm."

Lucas and I both turned at the sound of our name. Darion Mograine approached in full garb, and I would admit he looked terrifying.

"It's time to depart."

"Of course, Highlord." Lucas bowed his head in farewell. "Keep safe, Grace."

"Will I see you again?" I asked.

"I'm sure we'll be running into each other in due time," he answered. "Make sure Zen keeps you within eyesight. He's my insurance of your safety."

"Okay. Bye, Lucas."

A hug probably would have made Mograine gag, so I let Lucas go quietly with the other death knights. Zen finally approached. "Feel better?" he asked.

I looked over Zen's green eyes, his chiseled cheek bones and intense stature, and a smile painted my lips. "Better."

"I think it's time to take you back."

"Take me back?" I repeated.

"I'm sure Taellor's pacing back and forth waiting for you-"

"Since when does Taellor decide what I do?" I snapped.

"Grace, we managed to push the Lich King's numbers back, but I can't have you here when there's more work to be done with rescues. There's still some _very_ dangerous monsters down there and you-"

"I'm _not_ hurt," I stated. "Lucas healed me."

A look of casual surprise took over Zen's face. "He did, did he?"

I nodded. "My blood. It's different. Kind of like his."

Zen shook his head. "Let's go."

My face fell. "But Zen…"

"I need to return and give some messages. Taellor's going to have to command there for…a short while. And a little rest wouldn't kill you."

I left begrudgingly as Zen convinced me that he actually needed my help gathering some supplies. We had to load up tonight, and set camp before it grew too late at the pinnacle. Our men wanted to be prepared in case the Undead decided to launch a surprise attack.

The wind was picking up as we arrived. Dusk was settling, making Zen's bruised left cheek seem more sickly looking.

Taellor was our first stop and when Zen handed the letter and he read it, his eyebrows rose. "For how long?"

"Not long. We wanted our best to stay and aid the rescue first thing tomorrow morning. Then some higher officers will return to relieve you."

"I'm a rogue. I should be helping the rescue."

"Fordring is simply looking out for you. You know he has complete faith in your skills."

Taellor said nothing. He nodded curtly and tucked the envelope into his cloak.

"We have to gather supplies," Zen announced. "If you have any questions…"

"Grace, you're leaving?"

"Lucas helped and healed my back. I want to help-"

"Well, I'm not sure I'll be letting you go yet," Zen thought out loud.

"Grace," Taellor said my name carefully. "You're sure you're healthy enough to…"

"I feel better," I answered. "Don't worry about me."

Taellor cracked a thin smile. "I'll try not to."

Zen nodded farewell, but I couldn't seem to say my goodbye. There was just something about the Night Elf's heavy demeanor and how sullen he acted as Zen turned away. So I left silently, my mind begging my senses to ignore Taellor's haggard aura.

We gathered Zen's belongings into a bag and tossed it into the wagon, followed by extra tents that had settled near the stables. With the dozen tents we grabbed double the cots, some rations, and firewood. The stuff cramped the little wagon, but Whiplash and Zen's horse were fully capable of towing the load.

I hitched a ride on the back, and the travel didn't take long. We got help unloading, and everyone was responsible for pitching their own tent.

I went to pick up the bag of Zen's things, but Zen took it away. "You rest, Grace."

My lips puckered in agitation. "When I was _training_ you were harder on me. I'd be working like a mule right now if I was still your trainee!"

"Less talking," the rogue announced as he tossed his things aside. "More thankfulness."

Despite my _thankfulness_, I helped Zen set up the tent. When it was complete, Zen stretched out his arms. "Home sweet home."

I watched as Zen sighed and moved forward to enter the tent. He seemed…more like Zen now. Now that I was…well, acting more myself. I had been trying to convince him to _live_ for so long, and now he was and it was so unreal that it actually had me wondering if he _was_ faking.

The tent was finally done getting put up, when my jaw started clenching to prevent my teeth from chattering in pain. I stifled the urge to fold my arms, knowing Zen would read it in a moment. "Cold?" Zen asked matter-of-factly as he tossed his belongings into the new area, his breathe leaving in a puff of white.

"A little," I forced. "I think my body is still trying to catch up through the healing phase."

"Come on."

Zen led me into the tent, where two cots took up most of the room. When I stepped in, the cold caught me off guard, as if it was stuck within the material of the tent. I must have shivered visibly, because Zen chuckled in my ear as his hand grazed my back—an intimate gesture that took some getting used to. "Don't worry. Our body heat will warm the place up in no time."  
I had _never_ blushed because of Zen—at least, not that I could remember—but I must have blushed then, because a flush of warmth had spread painfully across my cheeks.

"You need your rest," Zen encouraged as he fussed with the thick blankets on the designated cot. "Especially if you plan on coming in the morning."

My eyes widened. "I can go?"

"Well, technically, I can't tell you to stay. I'm not your master anymore. Although, _technically_ I could order you to remain here-"

"Let's not get too technical though," I insisted with a smile. I walked to my own cot and took my heavy cloak off.

"Grace…"  
"Hmm?"

"I only grabbed two blankets, and they're not very thick. Maybe we should share."

My face flushed again as I smiled shyly. "Is that an order?"

"If that's the only way I can get your over here," Zen answered quietly. For a moment I looked the rogue over, the rogue who was usually so closed off and distant. But he sat there, silver bangs hiding his intense gaze, simply _there_ as Zen. He blinked once, his chin tilting slightly as his aura flickered with traces of anxiousness, and then he seemed so _real_ again, like the man I had fallen so hard for in Stormwind.

Almost too earnestly I reached for my blanket and dragged my cot over to his. Once my boots and belt were off, I climbed into Zen's open arms and let my forehead rest under his chin. For a moment we were silent, my ears picking up Zen's slow breathing, until his aura spiked. "Grace."

"Zen," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry-"

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I've nearly lost you so many times. You left Stormwind, and then Taellor shows up and that _battle_ that nearly killed you-"

"Wait, Taellor…what about Taellor?," I asked, pulling myself away just enough so I was face-to-face with Zen. "You _never_ lost me Zen, it was _always_ you."

"But you k—you and Taellor _kissed_ and did who knows what else…"

"Just a kiss," I interrupted in a near squeak. "It wasn't supposed to happen and it did and I'm sorry."  
"He got there first," Zen stated firmly, on the edge of a mix of anger and jealousy. "_I_ was supposed to be your first."

My mouth opened, and for a moment all I could do was exhale as Zen's feelings were practically laid on the table. The tent wouldn't stop spinning. "Then be my _next_," I whispered softly, my hand moving to grab a hold of Zen's shirt.

His aura warmed so much I nearly felt it heat my body, and then his hand was caressing my cheek and his lips locked onto mine with so much intensity I nearly stopped breathing. It was only Zen and me now, with no one present that Zen had to pretend around. He was there for _me_, the kiss just as magical as I had wanted it to be. This kiss was deeper than before and had more meaning; my heart skipped beats as my hands traveled up Zen's prominent jaw and down along his shoulders. I pulled him in closer, the heat of the moment urging my body to continue playing with fire.

Everything finally felt right. My smaller frame melted into Zen's, his arms that were normally so lethal holding my hips closer to his. Zen's teeth traced across my lips, causing me to stifle a gasp, and he leaned in eagerly for one more intense kiss before pulling back, one hand rising to pull my bangs out of my eyes. Zen, of course, merely smiled as I panted in an attempt to catch my breath. "Zen…"

"We need to rest," Zen whispered, though he had nestled his mouth into my neck so his breath grazed my skin. It made the simple sentence seem much more tantalizing. He made me yearn for more, so much that sleep was hardly on my mind anymore, but Zen was right. We still had a big duty to fulfill the following morning.

The thought of leaving where I was at the moment had me nearly wishing I wasn't a rogue. But I put the thoughts aside and decided to simply cherish the night together—and the warmth it brought.

[end]

* * *

Thanks everyone =]


	23. Reformation

Hello all!

Another update! This story is very long, eh? If I get any hints of reviews for this chapter by tomorrow, I'll update again =]

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**Book Eleven, Part One**

**Reformation**

"Grace."

It wasn't my name that awoke me. Zen's arm was draped over my stomach as his lips trailed down my cheekbone and nipped gently at my neck. Sighing, I opened my eyes, nearly afraid I had dreamt of Zen's presence. But there he was, looking me over in amusement.

"Is there something on my face?" I mumbled.

Zen chuckled. "No. It's time. You have five minutes before I leave you here."

I snapped up immediately, my gear on in moments. Zen waited for me, and we headed out and met Fording near where Justice Keep was making progress.

The sun was just peeking over the cliffs, the shadows still looming over scattered jagged portions of Scourgeholme before us.

"Good morning," Fordring began. "As most of you know, we lost a few of our own yesterday. Some of our soldiers may be out there. But this is more than a rescue. Their numbers are still too high. We must destroy them. Lieutenant Ashthorn," Fordring nodded to Zen.

"The Undead have scattered, they're unorganized. The morning light should give us an advantage, but spread out and remain undetected as long as possible. Let's go."

"Spoken like a rogue," I stated with a smile as I followed Zen to the ridge. For a moment I was reliving the tumultuous fall down those same rocks, the nausea wanting to make its way up into my throat. But I pressed onward, focusing on the task at hand.

Many of the men alongside us were paladins, priests, and even warriors. Usually, rogues would be the outcast class around them. But we _did_ have some advantages—we didn't have the Light, but we could hide in the darkness fairly well.

We didn't have to get far into the twisted pathways to find the Undead. Zen and I lurched forward in front of the others to implement our rogue skills. When we came across one lonesome arachnid, its silver legs beginning to glisten in the sunlight, Zen wielded his blades. Mine were out without hesitation, and with two strikes we had the best immobilized with a shuddering hiss. I went to deliver more blows that would end the monster, but Zen was already advancing. A few paladins flashed a spell at the enemy, and it finally sizzled and rested for good.

Our ranks split up from there. Zen and I stayed together, undetectable until the last moment.

Zen finished off another one of our victims, and as he stood, I heard a gurgling sound behind me. Alarmed, I turned quickly, my senses still not fully recovered from my previous battle's trauma.

_I should have sensed him!_

The Undead soldier growled, the hilt of his blade swinging and striking me in the cheek. As a cry of pain escaped my lips, I landed on the stony ground below as dizziness overcame me.

My assailant pulled his sword back to force the blade through my chest, but Zen was already acting. His two daggers entrapped the considerably larger sword, and for a moment the two were locked in a stalemate.

Blinking, I forced away the pain and tears, my hands locked onto my own blades. Without a pause of thought I was flying to Zen's aid, my dagger lodging into the thing's heart and making a serrated trail down to his abdomen.

Another lifeless body collapsed, and I could recover my bloody dagger from its gaping chest.

"Are you okay?" Zen asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

We pressed onward. Even as an inducted rogue I still admired Zen's outstanding skills. I still longed to someday be as lethal as him.

It didn't take long for me to realize we were killing our own. The raised-from-the-dead soldiers had been defending the living only hours before.

I was sick of this war. Sick of the death toll climbing, and the collateral damage that came with it. But it had to end somehow. It was enough to give me more drive. My frustrations were channeled into a hate I could implement. I took enemies down ruthlessly, focusing more on auras. It helped me familiarize with my ability, since my senses were weakened with my body.

And it seemed like the numbers never dwindled. Zen and I kept pushing through, and it was beginning to wear me out. I panted lightly, my breath visible as I wiped a smudge of blood away from my cheek.

"It won't _stop_," I whispered.

"Let's head back. This section looks clear." Zen walked ahead, his stride light and brisk as he remained focused ahead.

Something felt darker. Off. I paused a moment, only hesitating in an attempt to detect anything else, when Zen's legs were suddenly pulled out from underneath him, his hands letting go of his blades and instead moving to catch his fall.

"Zen?" I took a step forward to help him back up, but then his arm was flying back toward his legs, his body being dragged off our platform and onto a lower pathway to the left. "_Zen_!" I screamed, now sprawling toward his disappearing figure.

A curse passed through Zen's lips as he tried writhing out of the invisible force that dragged him. I tore around the boulder, reaching for Zen's hand to try to prevent him from disappearing, but then my eyes caught the cause.

Another Undead spider, but this one was different. Its top half was nearly humanoid, his hands toying with something. And Zen was getting closer to him by the moment.

My eyes caught a shimmer as the sunlight arrived. It was a web.

The monster tittered its insect legs, his hiss a warning of the danger. Zen was still struggling as he slipped down the slope, and I finally came around enough to act. I leapt down, my footing slipping as I reached Zen with my dagger. "I-I can't see it," I whispered.

One sparkle caught my eye as the growl deepened in front of me. The spider was five steps away, but the glisten was _right there_.

My dagger sliced into thin air, but a resonating _snap_ told me I was partially successful. Just as I exhaled in relief, a slick material was wrapping around my own arm, the string tightening and causing me to gasp as it pulled me in as well. "_Zen_." I tossed my main hand dagger his way, the metal skittering across stone.

The force of my web's tangle had me struggling to stay on my feet. Almost in a panic I grabbed the dagger from my off-hand and swiped it aimlessly at the nearly invisible thread.

Finally I nicked it away. I didn't have time to think, I just acted. I spun fiercely, adrenaline inhibiting my fear, and tried to slash at the spider.

I severed an arm. The monster didn't seem too disappointed, but it certainly was peeved. A green orb was beginning to grow in his claws, but I reacted and kicked him hard enough to break his concentration. With a hiss of anger the spider rebelled, two of his legs reaching out and effectively knocking me over into the stone below me.

I groaned, but Zen must have been free behind me. The spider was now distracted with him, and as I looked back I could only watch as a new web was spinning and wrapping around Zen's neck. Wincing, I stood back up and slashed again, another limb severed off with my efforts. My fellow rogue choked in surprise, one hand clawing at the string while the dagger in his other hand searched for the release.

An overwhelming urge to help Zen took over. I scrambled closer, my blade finally finding its chest with a crunch. Black blood oozed forth, greasing my gloves as I backed away. Once the monster fell, I turned to find Zen.

He had fallen to his knees, his body slackened as he covered his neck. "Zen," I whispered, "let me see."

"It's fine." Still, Zen lifted his hand that was now tinged in his own blood. It was superficial, only the depth of the thread itself. Still, I grabbed my cloak and patted at the bleeding spots. "That caught me off guard."

I shushed him. "Let's get your daggers."

We made it back without any more complications. Everyone else eventually wandered back as well.

Fordring welcomed us back, his eyes glistening with urgency. "Lieutenant Ashthorn, a word?"

"Yes, Highlord," Zen answered. He squeezed my hand gently before following our general away.

The keep's exterior was already finished, but I didn't have the energy to care much. My cheek was tender and probably bruising. I grabbed a small ration and went to Zen's tent, pulling off all of the top layers and bloody gloves. Sighing, I leaned back and rested.

Zen arrived after a while. He silently took his gear off and nestled his face into my neck. "How's your neck?" I asked.  
"It stopped bleeding. Let me see your face." Zen pulled away, his absent warmth enough to get me to turn toward him. Gently his fingers traced my swollen cheekbone. "This is going to drive me crazy," he muttered.

"What is?" I asked, looking over Zen in an attempt to read my own answer from him.

"Every time I see you hurt, it hurts me as well."

"Zen…"

"_We_ are dangerous. Us…together is dangerous. Not being near you drives me absolutely off the wall with worry, and then having you next to me in battle has me constantly looking for you-"

"Zen, we-"

"Just wait," he urged. "You have me _caring_ about life again. I might be worried about your safety, but you also make me stronger. I can't…do this without having you anymore."

"Zen," I breathed.

I couldn't make out any more words. Zen's lips gently enclosed mine, the soft touch catching me off guard.

"What did Fordring want?" I asked once we pulled away. Zen paused, as if debating with himself.

"He's leaving. Northeast."

"Why?"

"Fordring's…holding a…competition. The best get to fight the Lich King."

"Why a competition?"

"He wants the best. More people could be a liability. They could be raised and used as Undead weapons."

"Turned," I acknowledged. "When is it?"

"Couple of weeks or more. He needs time to organize it."

"Where?"

"Grace," Zen warned. "I don't want you going."

I took a moment. "Zen, I have to go. I'm _part_ of this."

"It's going to be _hard_, Grace. The best of the best will only be allowed to go with Fordring."

"Well, you can't go without me! I have to!"

Zen sighed. "We can figure it out later. I have to leave for Stormwind tomorrow. I have to notify King Wrynn and the soldiers."

At the word _leave_ I sat up, and Zen's hand cradled my cheek. "How long?"  
He shrugged. "A week or so."

I wanted to sigh, but I held back. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll just be _wasting away_ here!" I exclaimed in exasperation.

Zen chuckled. "You'll be fine. I'll be back."

I laid back down, turning to drape my arm over Zen's lean abdomen as he kissed my temple. "Everything's so unreal," I mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Being with you. Like this."

Zen's grip tightened around my waist as his breathing regulated.

I was rustled awake, Zen's blonde hair the first thing I registered as my eyes cracked open grudgingly. "Grace, I'm leaving," he whispered. Yawning, I forced myself to sit up as Zen pulled back to push my hair away. The intimate actions still caught me off guard, because as far as I knew it was unlike Zen.

But I could get used to it.

I got one more kiss before Zen left. The next few hours I stayed in the tent until Fordring sought me out. "You, my dear," he announced. "You're due for an appointment with Gregor!"

Cursing, I tightened my waistbelt. "But I'm _fine_, Highlord!"

"No, no. No excuses! Be off, Grace!"

Whiplash zipped across he white terrain effortlessly. A pang of guilt shot up my spine as I realized how little Whip had been out running lately.

I arrived quickly. A bit more life had arrived at the base—more people had returned, as promised.

Gregor was probably at the medical tent, so I quickly headed there and found him making rounds. "Well, it's good to see you're alive!" he exclaimed.

"My brother healed my back!" I immediately explained. "Look if you want, but I swear I feel fine now!"

Gregor _did_ take the time to look, too. All of the bandages were removed, and on my back nothing but a reddened scar remained. Still, Gregor checked my arm and below my collarbone. Once he finished, I grabbed some soup and ate at the hospital tent. It didn't take Taellor long to find me. His bruises down his face were still pale silver, giving him an even more magical appearance. "She lives," he exclaimed with a smirk.

I smiled, my feet dangling off the cot. "Taellor. You managed to keep the fort in one piece."

"Managed," he snorted. "Nothing was here to manage!"

"Did Zen mention the competition to you before he hearthed?" I asked.

The Night Elf lounged in the chair beside me. "Yes," he answered simply.

"Well…" I drew, scooting myself up so I sat on the edge of the bed. "You're going…right?"

"I'm not sure yet. And you," he began. "You're set on going?"

"Of course," I answered, slightly puzzled. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I just thought…Zen would want you to stay here. Where you're safe."

"Safe?" I huffed in near disbelief. "Safe. I've trained as a rogue with Undead. I've seen through the Lich King's eyes. I've seen death one too many times, and _now_ everyone's going to be concerned over my safety?"

"Grace, I'm sure he's just afraid of the thought of losing you once again."

"I can't change who I am. I'm a rogue. I have to go."

"Grace."

"Taellor," I breathed, trying not to convey my irritation with Zen through my tone. "You know I belong wherever I'm the most help."

"Zen is placing your safety in my hands!" Taellor's mouth clipped shut, my eyes immediately glaring in suspicion.

"You're not taking Zen's side, are you?"

Of course Taellor was horrified at the thought . The Night Elf visibly flinched, his aura frazzled. "He wants you safe. So do I."

"You're going to just keep me here? You and Zen _brainstormed_, and agreed to hold me captive here!"

"No." Taellor stood now. "You know I'm not one to hold you back, and I never have. I know better than to try and do that."

My mouth didn't move out of astonishment, but the silence didn't last long. "I need to find Zen in Stormwind. You're not competing, but I am. He's going to take me there."

Taellor breathed in an effort to hold his tongue at bay. "Okay. But if _one hair_ on your _head_ is damaged between your position right here and Zen's over there, he will kill me. And in revenge, I will come back from the dead and kill you for it. Got it?"

"Loud and clear," I answered with a grin. When Taellor sat down in defeat, I bit my lip.

He must have sensed my urge. "What," he groaned.

"I need to borrow your hearthstone."

"I am not supposed to be _helping_ you _run off-_" Taellor's sentence clipped off in a growl as he stood up and rifled through his cloak. "You do realize there are terribly more dangerous than you give them credit for."

"I've survived thus far," I commented simply. The rough stone was chilling my palm moments later as Taellor found it and set it in my hands.

"Be careful."

"You're a great friend, Taellor. Even if part of you is only doing this to spite Zen." I winked.

"Yeah, great friend. I'll remember you said that when you hearth to Stormwind and leave your left foot here in Northrend."

I chuckled, my fingers grazing the inscribing on the stone. The green symbol began to glow, its lamination warming my fingers. "Thanks, Taellor!" I called before the green light took over my senses.

Hearthing never felt good, and if my left foot _would_ have severed off during the transition, I suppose I wouldn't be surprised. It felt like every body part, every tissue and muscle and bone, hearthed separately and somehow managed to congregate back together in the same place. Pain was searing and throbbing as the stone worked its magic, but I knew what intolerable pain felt like. This was a paper cut in comparison.

Finally the tension stopped, and when I opened my eyes, the familiar old-time auras and sights came upon me. Everything felt lighter and happier here. And the nighttime gave Stormwind a calm presence. Even my headaches had subsided…I suppose I could credit the increased distance between me and the Lich King for that.

Just to be sure, I looked down and confirmed that I still had two feet before I walked down the Cathedral of Light's hallway and into the shadows of the night. Zen's aura didn't take any effort to sense. Silently I strode through the darkness, my footsteps not making a sound as I moved.

He seemed on the move as well, and since his house was tucked away in the corner of the city he was moving toward, I assumed that was his destination. My extra layers were terribly hot, even as Stormwind approached its own chill of winter time, but I kept onward. Constantly I kept my temper in check—Zen was going to leave me at the base! Let me miss the opportunity to kill the Lich King myself!

With my angry thoughts rolling by, it didn't seem long before I was at Zen's house. It was dark, even inside, but I felt Zen present within it anyway. Sleeping or not, it didn't matter—this conversation couldn't wait until the morning. With a tinge of irritation I brought my hand up, ready to pound on the door and growl Zen's name.

My lips hadn't even parted yet before a warm hand was covering them, and suddenly a body was blocking my exit behind me, another arm braced around my waist. "_What_ are you doing here?" growled Zen into my ear. My panic sizzled into a mix of annoyance and relief as Zen leaned forward to look me over. "Don't say a word," he warned. Eloquently Zen's hand that was gripping my side moved to push open the front door, and Zen quickly guided me inside.

When the door was shut, I was freed, and I took the opportunity to face Zen and give him my best glare. "Where _were_ you?" I demanded.

He pointed up. "Roof. Felt you coming. You thought you could outwit your master?"

"You're not my master anymore. And I'm not here for games!"

"Clearly your aura concurs with you."

My lips pursed. Zen's wit was on full power tonight, but I was determined not to let him flabbergast me. "You _ditched_ me," I growled. "You weren't going to come back, you were going to go the competition alone and let me miss it!"

"_Ditched_ you?" he repeated, his chin leaning forward in disbelief. "Did Taellor tell you that?"

"He told me enough."

"I'm going to kill him!" Zen announced firmly.

"He only told me the truth!"

"No, he _didn't_. He omitted the truth part. The part where I said I was returning to the base after my duties were fulfilled here."

"He said you-"

"Taellor didn't tell you the last part. Because he wants you _angry_ at me. And clearly it's working."

"Zen!" I clipped, but the surprising statement from him wasn't as flooring as I thought it'd be. "He wouldn't…" But even s the words fell out of my mouth I remembered what I had told Taellor. _Thanks…even if part of you is only doing it in spite of Zen._ My shoulders fell the slightest, my anger fizzling. "You were going to come back. I believe you," I whispered calmly. "I came so you would be forced to take me with you to the competition. I thought you weren't…"

"Talk about acting on a whim," Zen muttered, though the comment didn't withhold any animosity or irritation. There was a brief silence before Zen stepped further into the house and exhaled. "Well, you're stuck here now. Let's get some rest."

"Right."

"Your things are upstairs in the chest. But I'm going to lie and say your bed is broken, infested with bugs, and unfit so that you might sleep with _me_ tonight."

"Well, I can't sleep in a broken, infested bed!" I announced lightly. Zen smirked, patted me on the shoulder, and moved into his room.

I got a chance to brush my hair, and when I washed my face with cold water I felt a tinge of pain on my cheek where the Undead had gotten me. In the mirror it was now a light purple.

Part of me couldn't resist peeling off my battle-worn outfit and instead choosing to wear a nightgown. With the change of scenery and change of clothes, it was almost as if everything was okay on our continent again.

I brought my brown tresses forward to cover up my crescent scar. Some reminders couldn't be removed, after all.

Carefully I slipped into Zen's covers, his body heat immediately warming me up. "How's your arm?" Zen whispered.

My eyebrows creased and I looked down. My stitches were still present there, covered in white bandages that were impossible to miss now that my long sleeves were gone. "Good. Gregor's going to kill me for leaving before he could remove the stitches."

"No big deal," Zen whispered as he laid back. "Brae could take them out. We'll have to be secretive. I don't want all of SI:7 knowing you're back."

I rested my head, eyes mulling over the wooden beams above. "Why not?"

"You're supposed to be on mission in Northrend."

My lips pulled into a grimace. "Everyone thinks I left on assignment."

"You did. Unofficially."

I sighed. "You don't have to protect me."

"I don't. I will anyway."

I turned my cheek toward Zen so it rested on his shoulder, giving his profile a good look before picking my head up and placing a kiss on Zen's temple. "Goodnight," I whispered before settling into the warmth of the satin and drifting to sleep.

I awoke disappointed when Zen's warmth was missing. The rogue was finishing his ritual of dressing into his intimidating gear, his daggers slinking into their sheaths, handles shimmering in the streak of light that peered through the curtains. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Yawning, I sat up. "You're leaving? It's still early."

"I have to reach Ironforge today. Get the word out about Fordring's championship."

"Will you be back tonight?"

Zen grabbed a dagger and slipped it into his boot. For a trip to Ironforge, Zen was maybe a bit overdressed. But Zen without his weapon of choice just didn't look the same. "Perhaps. Maybe in the morning."

"Okay."

"Stay out of trouble."

I tried not to roll my eyes. "Don't worry. I'll stay away from SI:7. Even though my aura just may give it away that I'm here…"

"Jared can handle an excuse. Just avoid direct contact."

"Stay here, I got it," I grumbled.

"Visit your family," Zen suggested.

My heart did a flip before it sank into my stomach. "I want to see mom and Matthew. But Lucas…I can't lie to her face about how he is. And I can't tell her the truth…not yet."

Zen nodded thoughtfully "Okay, I understand. But there is something else…" He fiddled in his side drawer, then pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out.

I took it hesitantly and opened it. "544 Waterfront?"

"That's Aurelia's address. She stopped by a couple more times after you left. Finally I told her you were gone. She just gave me that and told me if I heard anything to contact her."

"I don't know if I can…"

"She's extremely worried. She would want to hear the truth. And from you. She knows of the war, she may take the information better than citizens."

"This isn't in the paladin barracks," I commented. "It's a citizen address."

"Maybe she's on leave?"

I shrugged. "I'll try. I just hope she takes it well."

"You know what it's like, Grace. You understand this war better than anyone here, and the reality of loss still doesn't cut you a break. You're brave, Grace."

I scoffed. "That's an opinion. I'm human like everyone else."

"And I'm grateful for that. Every day."

Zen's hand grazed my cheek and his lips placed a firm kiss on my smile. Every kiss Zen and I shared was like a small promise of a future. Of what things could be. But it was bittersweet. Death was always so close, and rogues in love sounded like a romantic novel that a clueless non-rogue would write.

I was scared of losing Zen and the way he kissed me; like it was the last intimate moment we would share—and for all we knew, each moment together could very well be the last.

Holding back my urge for another kiss, I instead held Zen's hand and squeezed. "Please come back soon."

"I'll do my best." With another smile and a peck on my forehead Zen was gone.

For a few moments I sat there, debating with myself. I could visit Aurelia. Or I could rest some more—rest was hard to come by nowadays.

Exhaling, I took another moment and then begrudgingly pulled off the satin sheets and kicked my legs out of bed.

Right. To Aurelia, then.

I got to actually get ready to go out. I brushed through my hair (which now was shockingly mid-back when down) and chose a laced blue dress to wear around town. A little eye make up and I was nearly unrecognizable. Any guy from SI:7 would see a girl, not a rogue. After grabbing my boots, as well as hiding my daggers beneath my cloak, I left.

I hustled through the streets, my hood up not just to keep out the cold, but to hide me a bit more. My fingers clutched the parchment, the address embedded into my memory but I still found myself looking back at the cursive scrawling.

When I found the right house, it was like the weight of responsibility had landed on my shoulders. Dread had me nearly turning back around, but I didn't. With a shaky breath I raised my fist and knocked gently.

Maybe she wasn't home. Maybe she was visiting old friends, shopping at the square to avoid the crowd…

The door popped open abruptly, the noise embarrassing my rogue instincts and making me jump. Aurelia appeared behind the door, her blonde hair loosely pulled back as her curls brushed over her shoulder. Her eyes widened immediately in realization and she gasped, a small hand moving to cover her mouth. "Grace," she breathed.

"Aurelia," I began. "I-can I come in?"

"Of course." Aurelia hesitated a moment, eyes trying to read me as her aura shifted in confusion. I focused on one step at a time as I entered and distractingly observed my surroundings. The foyer was well designed; a lit fireplace to the left and the seating around it glowing in warmth. A small segment behind the fireplace housed the eating table, complete with a red cotton tablecloth and an arrangement of pretty fall flowers. "Please sit," Aurelia insisted, her hand moving to the couch at the fire. With a numb smile of thanks I sat down, my back too straight in unease to slouch into the comfort of the cushioning. "You came back so quickly," the other female said earnestly, her ruffled dress bunching up as she sat down as well. "You must have uncovered something…"

Aurelia's aura was warming. It was a different sensation than when an aura heated in desire. It tingled, and I realized what she was emitting was hope. "Aurelia," I began weakly, my hands were wringing, and that act of nervousness alarmed me. As a rogue I shouldn't be outwardly showing anxiety. "I know you have more knowledge…about the happenings in Northrend. About the dangers…"

"Of course…"

I sighed, then wetting my lips as I locked eyes with the blonde. "You were right about the officers…the high ranked soldiers were being taken alive. Lucas was taken. Tracked his base down and then had no leads…and I didn't know where to go from there. I was lost. Then I had…a vision. Of Light's Hope. And I followed my heart like Lucas always said…" At this, Aurelia smiled, a pain of understanding in her eyes. "I had to go. I went to the Plaguelands, where hundreds of death knights had attacked…"

I took this time to breathe. The scenes with Lucas were still alive, still too vivid. How blank he was, how broken…

Aurelia's hand reached over, and now moisture was making her eyes glisten. My hand squeezed, the throb of her heartbeat pulsating under my palm, and I realized Aurelia was reliving the moment with me.

"And Lucas was there." The other girl drew in a breath of surprise, the movement causing a tear to slip down her cheek and around her gasping lips. "Wait," I urged. "Lucas was different…"

"He's alive?" she whispered.

My eyes shut an instant so I could control my breathing. "Lucas is a death knight, he was serving under the Lich King until-"

"They killed him," Aurelia squeaked.

"No," I whispered. "Mograine and the others broke free from the Lich King's control. He's still in Northrend. Fighting _against_ the Lich King."

"Death knight." The words were so foreign coming from Aurelia's mouth. "Lucas is…Undead…"

"I—that…I'm not sure."

"But you said the Lich King…"

"He could be Undead if they killed him and raised him. But Lucas…he feels. He feels so much regret, and I'm afraid they did far worse things to him than killing him."

Tears were slipping down Aurelia's eyes freely now, and the outward display had my eyes starting to swell as well. "Lucas," she groaned.

"He's stuck on what happened. He relives every dark memory. I fear they truly tortured him. That they broke him in alive. And deep down…it's like he feels hate and grief. His soul may not be gone, but its broken and shattered, to say the least." I brushed my own tears away. "But there's moments…I see _him_. Not a death knight. I think there's hope," I finished.

Aurelia was silent a moment, her breathing shallow. "It's not the worst of news, I suppose," she reflected quietly.

"He's hell-bent on revenge, but after he fulfills his purpose and the Lich King falls…he thinks he'll have nothing. We're going to have to help him…feel," I thought out loud.

The girl sighed, wiping her eyes as she composed herself. "Grace," she began firmly. "There's something I need to tell you."

Aurelia's shift and tone of voice caused me to freeze in place, my hands stopping their fidgeting as they rested in my lap. "What is it?"

"Lucas…Lucas and I were—are more than friends. We're husband and wife." For effect Aurelia held up her hand, a simple golden band gracing her fourth digit.

Shock now had me lurching back into the couch, my hand clutching my chest as I momentarily forgot to breathe. "_What_? No—how—when?"

"It happened so fast; Lucas was reassigned and we had been courting and—Grace, we couldn't wait, if Lucas had left me and-" Aurelia exhaled as if to compose herself. "We couldn't part wondering _what if_. So we married the night before, in secret."

I felt a pang of jealousy as I glanced down at my own ring that Lucas and Dennis had both given to me. "Lucas never told me…never mentioned you or anything…"

"It wasn't supposed to evolve so fast. We were courting and training, we were afraid that if anyone knew it would effect our assignments…"

"But I'm his _sister_," I defended.

"He wanted to tell you," Aurelia explained confidently. "He loved…he loves you so much. And I wanted to tell you as well…that day we met. But I couldn't. 'Hi, your bother was kidnapped and by the way, I'm his wife'…? It was obscene…"

Deep breaths. "Wow," I whispered. "I'm…I'm just shocked. Welcome to the family."

I couldn't be mad at Aurelia for how everything turned out. She grimaced, her silence and receding aura signifying she wasn't done. "There's more." Mouth agape, I could only watch as Aurelia's hand moved to her ruffle of dress fabric in her lap. "The night we wed…we also consummated the marriage…"

At such strongly private information my cheeks flared with heat, and now my world was churning as my mind tried to dissect the new piece of information.

"Grace, I'm pregnant. I'm four months pregnant."

The spinning stopped. "P-pregnant!" I gasped.

Now Aurelia was glowing, and I realized that the dress wasn't actually that ruffled at all—the bunched up material was meant to hide the bump forming.

"I know it's a lot to take in…"

"Lucas is going to be a father."

"I want the child to know him, and now with the news-"

"I'll tell him. I'm sure it'll work out. He needs to know there's a baby before…" I stopped the thought in fear of bringing up the possibility of Lucas dying. "I'll tell him."

"Grace." Her hand rested on mine, giving me assurance as I tried clearing my thoughts. "If you do see him…tell him I love him. And that we're waiting for his return."

"Of course," I managed to choke out.

We hugged briefly, the relief of knowing someone else understood my grief and fears giving me enough strength to stand. "Congratulations," I said, smiling.

"I'm so thankful. He's like…a little miracle gift." Aurelia rubbed her rounded belly affectionately.

"He?"

"I think it's a boy," she hummed. "Strong willed like his father."

"Stay safe and healthy," I bade as I stepped outside.

"Do the same, Grace. And keep in touch!"

"Of course."

The door clipped shut softly, and I didn't hesitate to walk away immediately. My mind was running in four thousand separate directions.

I tell Aurelia that Lucas is a death knight, and in return I get a sister-in-law and a nephew. And yet I was somehow jealous. The romantic story of Aurelia and Lucas, of the marriage and gift of life even in the midst of so much death and war. And of the safety and security that a husband and child brought…the aspect of a family and a home within the secure gates of Stormwind.

It was the opposite spectrum of my current predicament. Lucas had to learn how lucky he was…how fortunate…

A family sounded comforting. And Lucas deserved that.

Jealousy. The word didn't cover enough feelings I had at the moment. So far from Northrend, it was easy to dream of such a future for me. But my reality was waiting for me across those icy seas.

I wanted to visit mother and Matthew, but the pressures of Lucas' condition, a well as newly acquired family members had me discouraged. It could wait. The news could very well give my mother a heart attack.

It was still early. With nothing else urgent to do, I returned to Zen's. Sighing, I locked the door behind me, the darkness comforting as I stepped through and collapsed into the bed.

With strained eyes I looked in my hand and found Aurelia's address still in it. The paper was crinkled and worn by now, but I still folded it in half after smoothing the wrinkles out. Thoughtlessly I pulled open Zen's drawer from where he had recovered the address, and inside was only a few books and a note tucked into the side. I recognized it immediately. As if I needed confirmation, I tossed the address back in and picked up the new note.

The memo to Zen when I left. _I'm so sorry._ Guilt made me grimace and I tossed it back in as if it had burnt me. He had kept it. _Zen…_

What was I supposed to do now. I couldn't go see anyone, so I was just supposed to sit here?

Well, I could at least go to the square. Maybe to the market so I could pretend to be normal. Besides, it had gotten to quiet around here for my taste.

I brought a small basket with me, just in case I _did_ decide to purchase anything. With a sigh I mused over the different little shops and booths along the cobblestone streets. After so much chaos and excitement of being a rogue, shopping during free time just seemed so mundane.

I looked over some jewelry shops, clothing stores—I really wanted to walk in to the weapons store, but with how I dressed it would draw more attention than I needed. So I looked through some pretty bouquets and even bought some pink and orange roses.

Afterwards I bought a loaf of bread and some jam, as well as some vegetables for a small lunch. Finally I began to head back to Zen's house. It was a bit after noon by then and I was looking forward to—

Someone's shoulder collided into my own rather roughly, the contact startling me and causing me to lose my basket. The contents slipped out, leaving me to gasp and look accusingly at the person who caused the accident.

"Oh, sorry," the boy apologized quickly. His eyes didn't meet mine because he was already bending over to pick up my things; but I immediately recognized him. It may have been months and months ago, but I knew his face from my first days with Aradar in SI:7. It was the boy who had strongly verbalized his disapproval of having a female rogue.

His aura was darker than before. When he realized I hadn't spoken a word, the boy stood with my basket and held it out for me to take. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "You should have watched more carefully."

The guy glanced back quickly as if replaying what had happened, his cloak momentarily shifting and revealing the hilts of two daggers. "Sorry, I was in a hurry. You…look familiar. Have we…?"

"No," I answered almost too quickly. "I don't think so."

"Oh." He looked me up and down once more. "Again, I'm sorry. Next time I will pay more attention," he said with a wink.

"You do that," I muttered, walking away dismissively. It took all of my strength not to smack him a good one right there in the street.

I walked to Zen's anyway, my shoulder just a little sore. When I finally got inside I set my basket down and took my cloak off. I reached into my side pocket to put my money bag onto my dresser, but to my surprise it wasn't there. Confused, I patted myself down and even checked my cloak and basket. It was no use—the gold was gone.

At first I thought I had forgotten or even dropped it. And then I remembered that collision I had just had with that boy rogue. I growled, my fist slamming down onto the heavy wood of the dining table. How could I be so _stupid_. Of course he had been up to no good!

My first instinct was to go after him immediately. But my rogue instincts then took over. I could wait until nightfall. The hours following I was a good girl. Zen would be proud of how well I did absolutely nothing. I ate my little meal and took a nap. I sharpened my daggers. I remade Zen's bed and even organized his bookshelf.

And then nightfall came. I wore the same thing I had been wearing all day and kept my newly-sharpened daggers close. For effect, I even grabbed a snuff of Zen's good old vanishing powder.

It wouldn't be hard to detect his aura. It was too different and memorable. With some luck I could detect it—and I hoped the little thief was still roaming the streets like the cockroach he was.

[end]

* * *

Awkward ending? Yes. But the next chapter is coming!

Please review i LOVE reviews!

Britti


	24. Reformation, Pt 2

**Book Twelve, Part Two**

**Reformation**

I clipped across the stones fairly quickly as I followed my senses until finally spotting him. He was alone and still lingering around town, his gait moving toward me. With a confidence I didn't realize I had I walked forward, trying to emit any sex appeal I could conjure from the air. Once he was close enough to recognize me, he stopped in confusion. "Oh my!" I gasped. "It's you! I was looking for you earlier after what happened-"

"Looking? For me?" he asked with a smile. Good, he wasn't suspicious. Just impressed with himself.

"Yeah, I…" I tossed my long hair back and stepped closer. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to snap…"

"I don't think you need to apologize; but you could…make it up to me somehow," he suggested, taking a small step over and gently pushing me up against the stone wall. His hand gripped my chin. "What do you say?" he asked in a low voice.

I forced a small moan through my lips, though I nearly gagged at the thought. My hands reached beneath the young man's cloak—my right hand stroked down his chest, the left hand searching his pocket carefully and managing to find my little coin bag.

"But I don't even know your name," I whispered seductively.

"It's Blake," he answered roughly as hunger took over his body.

"I think I do know you," I said softly as my hand hovered over the top hem of his pants.

"Really?" His hips were now grinding closer to me as he had difficulty holding back his urge.

"Yes." My right hand now drew my dagger and with one eye blink the cool metal was at his throat. "You're a rogue trainee. I was too when you got in my face and tried scaring me out of being a rogue."

"Your…" He didn't back away. "So now you're going to seek revenge?"

"No, I'm taking this back." I held up my money bag. "You should be trying to better more important rogue skills, like being undetectable and precise. Practicing pickpocketing on our own civilians-"

"H-"

"Don't move," I warned as I sidestepped and freed myself from the wall and his body. "You're lucky I don't report your crime. You would never be instated into SI:7."

"I wouldn't tell anyone if I were you," he warned, only his head turning to catch my figure in the corner of his eye. "I just may keep you from SI:7's initiation as well."

I giggled. "Two problems. I already am a rogue. And you don't even know my name, _Blake_."

Blake turned, but I had already drawn the vanishing powder and now threw it. The smoke immediately filled the area and I managed a good kick to his knee before I disappeared.

Stupid novice.

When I returned to Zen's, I tossed the bag onto the table in victory and rolled my eyes. At least the brat kept me busy for an hour or so.

But then I was bored again, and without anything to occupy me I was left to mull over all of the current events.

It was getting late and I missed Zen. And it wasn't until the middle of the night that I heard the door pop open. I looked up from the bed and watched as Zen took his cloak off and removed his weapons. He stepped into his room and set his equipment down. "How was it?" I asked, relief causing me to smile.

"It went well. I think we'll have a fair turn out." I stayed silent, watching as Zen didn't bother slipping behind his screen to remove his shirt. "How did the visit with Aurelia go?"

"I told her."

"Something wrong?" he asked, momentarily forgetting about the fresh shirt he now held in his hand.

"Aurelia and Lucas are married."

Zen stopped his fussing around the room and instead sat down next to me on the bed. "Really?"

"Aurelia's four months pregnant with his child."

For a moment it was silent. "Are you angry?"

"I just…wish I had known. You know, four months ago."

"That's…not what I expected."

"Me neither." Zen's hand went to the small of my back and gave me goosebumps.

Zen went to put his shirt on, but I grabbed the material and forced him to put it back down. The male rogue stopped what he was trying to do and gave me a curious and innocent smile. "Grace? What-"

My lips then crushed his, my tongue immediately begging for entrance into Zen's mouth. With a new earnest my hand traveled down Zen's shoulder to grip his torso and tug him in closer. Zen's aura flared too strongly I nearly gasped, and before I could beg any more Zen was kissing back passionately, all frustrations momentarily gone as his body climbed onto my smaller one. My head hit the pillow as Zen's hips grinded against mine, and the feeling of heat caused a gasp to slip through my lips. Even though my cheeks were now flushed with warmth, Zen's touch caused chilling shivers throughout the rest of my body.

The sensations were almost overwhelming, and yet I wanted Zen even more as his kisses left swirls of pleasure down my neck. "Zen," I moaned. My hands had found the lip of Zen's pants and were attempting to pull them off his prominent hips.

Zen shuddered in pleasure, and then he moaned as his hand moved on top of my own to stop my advancement. "Grace," he forced through his clenched jaw. Zen's hot breathe grazed my neck—and I noticed that the male rogue actually had to catch his own breath.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly.

Zen had to take a moment to compose himself, one hand gripping the sheets near my shoulder. "Grace, I don't think…we should be doing this."

"Zen, I _want_ this. I want _you_."

"You know I l—you know I have strong feelings for you. But I don't want you rushing 'us' because of what you found out about Lucas and Aurelia."

"They're lucky they didn't wait," I whispered earnestly. "Outside of this room, we could _die_. It's how we live. We might not have tomorrow together."

"Grace, I just can't take that risk. If we…you know…and you had a…you know, got…"

"Pregnant?" I questioned.

"I cant imagine how worried I would be. Protecting you and an unborn…and what if you had lost the baby or lost your rogue career because-"

"Did you put some thought into this before?"

Zen gently pushed me back down. "I wasn't finished," he purred, his lips dragging across my neck. When I didn't speak, Zen clasped my cheek softly. "I couldn't lose _you_."

"I think you're just blowing it slightly out of proportion."

"All I know is I am just _completely_ content being with you. We're lucky enough to have that. To live today."

I smiled. As much as I hated to admit it, Zen was very good at being charming. "Just don't start slamming the pantry cabinets in the morning this time, okay?"

Zen chuckled. "Promise."

I drifted off to sleep shortly after, and when I woke up I had a kink in my neck at an angle I was laying on Zen's chest, but it was far worth it. "Morning," I sighed. Zen sat up, his lean abdomen peeking through his blankets.

"Morning, Grace."

I could tell by his tightened expression and controlled aura. It was going to be a very similar day to yesterday. "Where to today?"

"A few small camps outside Stormwind."

"Can I come?"

"No," Zen answered simply. "Today you have a date with Brae."

"Oh, how I miss my dates with Brae," I grumbled.

"Well, you need those stitches out of your arm if you want to start training for the competition."

I couldn't hold back my smile. "Really?"

"Of course. Let's go."

Eagerly I put my gear on and followed Zen through the streets. It was still fairly early, and my breathe was visible, but excitement kept the chill off my bones. Besides, compared to Northrend, this weather felt like a summer breeze.

When we didn't head toward SI:7, I looked over at Zen. "Where's Brae?"

"His house, where else?"

We made a few more turns before arriving at a small little cottage. Before Zen could even knock on the green door it was opening and Brae was greeting us. "Right on time, Zen. And Grace, I see you've managed to keep out of trouble."

"Trouble finds _me_," I corrected.

Brae chuckled as he moved to let us in. "Actually, I'll be right back," Zen said, letting me go inside before him. When I looked curiously over to him, he motioned me inside. "I'll come back."

Nodding, I walked into Brae's little house. It lacked the style Zen's had, but it was cozy nonetheless. Brae invited me to sit at the table while he gathered his supplies. I did as directed, momentarily kept company by the crackles of the fire as Brae hustled down the hallway. It wasn't long before my arm was strewn out on the table, Brae's dexterous hands unraveling the gauze and inspecting the sutures. "Well, it's not completely healed, but it's nothing a little potion can't help."

Brae snipped the wires out one by one and then slathered the reddened scar with a strange smelling cream. It burned a little, but even right after the cream absorbed I could see a difference. "I'll put some tape closures over it just in case and rebandage it," Brae explained, "but it should be fine."

"It feels great," I agreed.

Zen arrived just as Brae finished rewrapping my now stitch-free arm. "Thanks, Brae," I said with a smile.

"No problem. I think we can call it even now," Brae said with a wink.

"You're a great rogue, Brae," Zen complimented.

"That's what friends are for, Zen."

We left soon after as Zen announced he'd be taking me to my training. "Where?" I asked.

"Cole agreed to help out."

"Cole?" I repeated. "But doesn't he still have a trainee?"

"Robert? Yes. He's on red missions still."

"Still. Shouldn't he be inducted soon?"

"He's making progress. It hasn't been _that_ long that he started training, Grace. You were only gone a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, but I didn't take that long…"

"Well, you're more talented than most."

"Oh my, was that a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it."

I giggled, getting a smirk of a reaction from Zen. When we arrived, Cole let us in and greeted Zen with a firm handshake. "I can't thank you enough, Cole."

"I know you'd do the same for me."

Zen nodded. "Don't be easy on her."

"Of course not. I'm sure this'll be a great experience for Robert, too."

Robert, I noticed now that he had been mentioned, was standing in the back with his arms crossed. Maybe this training would give me an excuse to beat up on Robert.

"Don't hurt Robert too badly," Zen instructed me as if he could read my intentions. Maybe he could read them.

The rivalry between Cole and Zen was much more friendly than the one between Robert and me. Cole slapped Zen's shoulder affectionately.

"I need to leave. Thanks again, Cole."

"Any time."

"Oh," Zen turned a moment. "And no more Undead caves!" he said jokingly, finger accusingly pointing at Cole.

Zen gave me a nod before leaving, apparently ignoring how Cole's demeanor had gone to an uncomfortable grin. Prior to his magical arrival in Northrend, that farewell would have been normal. But now it seemed so strange to act distant.

"Zen thinks he's quite the jester now…"

I'll see him again. It was okay.

For a moment I was remembering what it felt like the first time Zen had left on business, when I was sick from missing him. It didn't feel like such a disaster any more—maybe I had adapted—but it still pained me.

"So, Grace, how are you with a bow?" asked Cole, his voice bringing me back to the little cottage.

"A what?"

"Bow? You know, the curvy looking device that shoots arrows…"

"Zen and I touched on bows," I began. "I preferred throwing weapons."

"Good. We can have some target practice."

"With a bow?" I asked, still hoping it wasn't true.

"Zen told me you'll be entering this competition. Trust me, you're not always going to be that lucky to get close enough to use daggers. And sometimes, you're not going to _want_ to be that close."

Flashbacks of Clad's sickly hands holding the bubbling poison that nearly turned me came and went. "Okay, if it'll help," I grumbled.

"Trust in me. We'll be doing combat later."

I nodded. "I was hoping I'd be able to cut something into pieces."

In no time we were in the yard, targets paces and paces away as Cole handed me a training bow. "Let's see what you can do."

Shaking my head, I drew an arrow and attempted to steady it as I pulled back on the string. Robert was behind me, next to his Master Cole. His aura may as well have told me itself it wanted me to mess up. Inhaling softly, I focused only on the target and finally released, the arrow searing through the cool air with a faint whistle.

"Whoa," Cole uttered.

"_That_ is why I prefer throwing weapons!" I explained, my arm waving at the target—and the arrow that had flown by it and buried into the grass.

"No need to get frustrated—I'm actually glad I may be able to _teach_ you something," Cole said with a grin.

Cole spent a portion of the morning fixing my stance, using Robert as his 'good example.' It made me irritated that Robert acted like a perfectionist, but I felt better when Cole spent most of his attention helping me. Robert's aura was glazed in jealousy.

Then Cole's hand grazed down my arm softly, the touch tickling and causing me to blush and glance at Cole in surprise.

It wasn't like I _liked_ Cole—but he _was_ very attractive. And the touch was gentle—unlike a rogue's usual touch. Cole's aura immediately spiked and shot off into a thousand different directions as he panicked. "I'm so sorry, I definitely didn't _mean_ to-"

"It's okay," I giggled, since it was obvious Cole had no sensual intentions. "It just tickled."

Cole's aura was still trying to calm down, but what my senses then picked up was Robert's aura. The jealousy was still there as he clenched his bow in anger. Now the boy actually seemed upset. Hurt.

I raised an eyebrow, realizing that perhaps Robert wasn't only jealous that Cole was training me—but that he was attending to me, touching me, and joking with _me_.

This unrequited thing needed more attention, but for that moment I had to learn. By the end of the morning I could hit the target. I felt more confident with bows, at least. "I'll tell you what, one bulls-eye and we can be done with the bow," Cole suggested.

My first shot was two rings off. Two more arrows later I grazed the middle eye and jumped for joy and relief. "What an impressive improvement!" Cole commented. "Now at least you won't be hitting any innocent bystanders in the stands."

I giggled. "Thanks, Cole. I feel much better."

"Now, I'm going to give you some pointers on technique, but first a surprise…" Cole excused himself and paced back up to his house.

It was only Robert and me now. I turned to the SI:7 trainee while I still had the chance. "Robert, I-"

"Do you just shuffle around SI:7 and have relationships with all of the rogues?" Robert asked bluntly, his words singed with anger.

My aura darkened at the confrontation now broiling. "Robert, that was an accident. Cole doesn't-"

"Save it," Robert growled.

"Robert, I don't-"

The trainee took two large steps closer, leaving me a hand swipe away from his face. "The only reason you were inducted was because you've slept with _all_ of SI:7," Robert seethed, the fury evident in his face. Robert was so angry I kept both hands on my weapons in caution.

"You know that's a lie," I muttered. "You're blaming me for your anger but it's not _my_ fault you want Cole to be more than your trainer!"

His aura retracted only a moment, his face showing he was clearly taken aback. "How _dare_ you-"

"You think acting impulsively with your nose in the air impresses him? Cole may not see how you feel about him right now, like I see, but he will eventually!"

"_Shut up!_"

"If you need-"

I was cut off when Robert lunged toward me, his hands digging into my shoulder as we were throttled back. I felt the hard surface of another building as my spine collided into it. Robert was taller than me, but like Aradar said, I was nimble and quicker. I struck his elbows with my own arms with enough force that his hold on me released, and while he tried to regain his balance I struck his stomach with my elbow. As Robert lurched forward in pain I got behind him and pushed him face first into the wall _I_ had been leaning on.

"You don't get to put your hands on me," I growled, keeping his left arm twisted behind him. "You're too _impulsive_," I spat. "Now, you didn't let me finish. I was offering to help you. I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."

I pulled away swiftly, letting Robert peel his face off the bricks. Though he cast a sour glance at me, he said nothing.

Cole was walking up, a few containers in his hands. "I see we've started sparring without the trainer?" he asked.

"I was just giving Robert a lesson in stealth," I lied.

"He certainly could use the help. Now Grace, get close, and I'll show you my poisons." Cole unscrewed the two lids as Robert and I walked up. "Rogues can coat their daggers in poisons to better the odds. I made these myself—I thought since you learned arrows, you could use the poisons on the arrows, too."

"Wow, Cole. Thanks so much."

"The darker green is one that poisons over time. The lighter instantly burns the infliction. It feels like your blood's boiling. Not fun." I grimaced as well. "Here. I have plenty of vials."

"You're so helpful, Cole. Thanks."

"I owe Zen my life ten times over. I'd do anything for him. And he'd do anything for you."

Bashfully I looked away. "He's already done so much."

Eventually Cole showed me how to apply the poisons (though he wouldn't put it on my own daggers) and after a short snack the three of us were back outside. Cole had us practicing quick attacks and fatal takedowns. Despite our rocky argument earlier, Robert and I were civilized. Maybe the boy finally understood my intentions were true.

Maybe now what I had seen as Robert's personality was a misunderstanding.

"And then you'd have an opening to the heart. Right, Grace?"

I blinked. Cole looked over at me expectantly. "Yes…of course," I agreed blindly.

The evening came rather quickly, but Cole worked on Robert and I until nighttime when we physically couldn't see to practice. Finally Cole allowed our bodies some much needed rest. "Grace, you're welcome to wash up before you leave."

"That'd be great."

Using a towel I wiped down my face and extremities, and even washed my hair. After a mouthful of thank yous, I told Cole goodbye. "Good luck, Grace. Make sure you tell Zen about how much better I was at training you!" Cole said with a wink.

Robert wasn't around, so I left like that. The winter air tried to freeze my wet hair as I walked, but it didn't take too long to make it back to Zen's. He wasn't home yet, but it wasn't a surprise. It could be tomorrow before he arrived.

I was exhausted, and sleep meant seeing Zen quicker. So I climbed into the warmth of satin and instantly dozed off. It was a deep sleep, and I was awakened with a rough jolt as a large hand covered my mouth. My scream wouldn't escape; it wasn't Zen, I noticed this time—it wasn't his aura. With fear my eyes snapped open as I tried organizing my thoughts to plan a defensive move. Confused, I tensed as my eyes met Roberts tall form leaning over my body.

"It's okay," he said, taking his hand away to let me sit up, "I'm here to talk. You said you would-"

"By the Light, you couldn't _knock_?" I gasped, my hand at my forehead as I tried to regulate my breathing.

"I'm in a hurry, I told Cole I was just running out to grab a pale of water."

Rubbing my eyes, I yawned and peeked out of the curtains. It wasn't too late at night yet. "Okay, let's go."

"Go?"

"I can't talk to you here. If Zen walks in on us two alone…I don't care if we're screaming and scratching at each other, it wouldn't look good. So I'll just walk toward Cole's with you."

"You really like Zen, don't you?"

I paused my attempts at pulling my hair back. "I do. A lot."

"At least he returns the feelings."

I could tell Robert had difficulty even talking _around_ the subject. With a pat on his shoulder I directed him out the door. "Come on, let's talk."

We walked a good few steps before Robert exhaled. "I guess I was just thrown off. I'm sorry for putting my hands on you, it's just…I didn't realize my feelings were so obvious."

"Well, like I said…this nice bite of mine lets me spot that easier. I think it helps that I'm female, too. But Cole may pick up on it someday, whether you want him to or not."

Robert shook his head. "What should I do."

I sighed. "I don't know. Zen and I struggled for weeks over it. But I _do_ know that while you're apprenticing under him, it's against regulation to have an intimate relationship between you two."

"Yeah, I figured. But honestly, I don't even think this will ever evolve into…_that_ kind of problem," Robert grumbled as he kicked a wayward pebble. It skittered across the cobblestone and spiraled off of the nearby stone wall.

"Does Cole…does he…date women?"

Robert shrugged his broad shoulders. "I've never met any love interests. I don't know _what_ he's interested in."

I stopped walking to look sincerely at Robert. "It doesn't matter _what_ he's interested in. It's _who_. I'm not trying to decide for you, because it's _your_ decision. But Robert, if you don't tell him your feelings, you'll destroy yourself."

Robert smiled tightly. "You sound like you speak from experience."

"We're more alike than you thought."

He nodded, his eyes drifting past me to gaze at the nighttime sky. "I'll gather the courage to tell him…somehow. It's better than holding it in, even if-"

"Well, look who it is."

I knew the face too well-the dark aura was just icing on the cake. "Blake."

"Fancy meeting you here. What luck. Now…I may not be able to destroy _you_, girlie. For now. But your friend here _just might_ get into a spark of trouble with SI:7…"

"Who are you?" Robert asked, defensively stepping toward Blake and shielding me.

"He's no one," I growled quickly. I turned to Blake, who had a grin of victory already painting his face. "He hasn't _done_ anything, Blake, but good attempt. Don't make me teach you _another_ lesson."

"See, girl, that's the problem. You don't get to threaten me. Once news gets out that _Robert_ here has a secret obsession with his master, his career is over. You're taking your own friend down, girl."

"That won't work!" I growled, stepping forward. Robert's body was tense, fists pale as he used all of his strength to control himself. "It won't."

"Enlighten me," Blake encouraged. He was completely entertained at the moment as he folded his arms. "How are you going to redeem your friend?"

"It's not true, you didn't hear our whole conversation about his _friend, _who's having a lot of struggles. And Robert…Robert's not my friend, he's more." For effect I grabbed Robert's hand, his cold fingers releasing their fist in surprise as his hand let mine hold his.

Blake suppressed a laugh. "Nice try, girl. You're _both_ done."

"Robert," I breathed, my chest tightening as I faced him. My other hand, now clammy, reached up and grasped his cheek. "You love me, right?"

The boy under my touch looked down in shock, frozen in place as I reached up and placed my lips on his, softly at first as if to beg him to play along. Robert's arms wrapped around to my back as he gently (not to mention _believably_) deepened our kiss. His tongue searched my mouth carefully as my hand fused with his hair. When I finally pulled away, Robert and I locked eyes momentarily, until I remembered our audience.

"Leave Robert alone," I demanded. "He's done nothing. Try and take me down, Blake, but you won't get to him unless you go through _me_."

Blake's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'll be watching you, _wench_," he threatened as he stepped toward me and attempted to put his finger in my face. "You don't-"

In a flash Robert was launching forward, his fist colliding into Blake's cheek with a force so strong it made a _thump_. "Don't even _think_ about putting your hands on her," Robert seethed, his fist still curled to give another deft blow.

Blake clawed himself onto his feet, his cheek noticeably reddened even in the moonlight. No words came out of his mouth as he peddled out of Robert's line of attack and made a run for it. Once Blake disappeared, the other rogue turned to me. "Grace, you shouldn't have…"

"I know, but it worked," I interjected. "I couldn't let him slander you," I announced, still trying to convince myself that everything would be okay.

"Thank you." Robert squeezed my upper arm.

"Thanks for acting impulsively. This is the only time I'll thank you for _that_." Robert chuckled in response as we turned to make our way to Cole's house.

Except Cole was currently blocking our way, looking us over with piercing eyes at the end of the tunnel; his aura was bathed in shock, disappointment, and anger. "C-cole," choked Robert.

"Cole, I can-"

"Both of you. My house. _Now_."

The cold f winter was pretty apparent now as I numbly walked in front of Cole to arrive at his house. No one said anything—no one _wanted _to—but my thoughts wouldn't stop. Robert was right…we didn't have to kiss. But if I wanted Robert's career safe, I found it necessary.

And now Zen's best friend is behind me, burring holes into my back as I walked, after witnessing me kissing his apprentice. I had a good explanation. I did. But just how much could I really tell Cole?

Finally we arrived, and after coldly letting Robert and me in, Cole clipped shut the door and took his folded arm stance once more. "Rob, upstairs. I need to speak to Grace alone."

Robert stepped forward instead. "Cole, I can explain…"

"_Now_, Rob."

I didn't dare watch Robert leave. I felt like a school child being interrogated for starting a food fight.

"I'm _especially_ disappointed with you, Grace."

"Cole, I know it looks bad, but if you let me explain…"  
"Explain why you're throwing yourself at Robert when you're supposed to be involved with Zen?" Cole seethed, trying to keep his voice low. "Yes, Grace, it looks _bad_."

"I would _never_ do anything to hurt Zen-"

"You just did."

"That other boy…was threatening Robert's rogue career so I protected him."

"With a kiss?"

I inhaled quickly, my patience thinning. It didn't seem like my reasoning was helping—in fact, I was fairly certain I was backing myself up into a corner. What kind of explanation could I come up with?

"Cole, it's complicated, but it meant _nothing_. Robert _definitely_ isn't interested in me, and I have Zen."

"I know what I saw."

"You _don't_ know the story though!" I corrected. "Cole, you need to trust me. You know how much I adore Zen!"

"That doesn't justify what happened!" Cole articulated every syllable, his aura so dark I nearly couldn't look at him.

I muffled a growl of frustration. "I can't…Cole, Robert needed my help—and if I hadn't…if I hadn't _helped_, he could have been in serious, serious trouble."

Cole looked me over with narrowed eyes, his senses finally picking up the sincerity in my own aura. "Okay, what happened. Now."

Cole was using his father voice, and I really couldn't find a way through this with a big, fat lie. I could still fix this…

"Okay," I breathed. "But you have to promise not to tell Robert what I'm telling you."

Worry crept over Cole's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just…" I closed my eyes. "Blake was the other guy that ran off. He…was listening in on me and Robert talking…about Robert's relationship issues."

"Issues?"

"Robert…isn't attracted to girls."

Cole paused a moment, his brain soaking in the new information in. "R-rob?"

"Yes, and Blake overheard and wanted Rob to suffer for it. To punish _me_. But I couldn't let Rob pay for simply being affiliated with me. So I…kissed him. And Blake believed we were together. So…it was stupid but at least Robert's career…isn't ruined because of me."

Cole was silent for a moment as he studied my face, his eyes focused like Zen's when he thinks. "You're telling the truth. And that story is too ridiculous to make up."

"Rogue's honor. Whole truth."

"So this kid. Blake is his name?"

"Yes, but that's not a big deal-"

"Of course it is, if he's threatening you and Robert."

"He can't harm anyone. You're not concerned about…Robert's attraction to males?"

"Should I be?"

"Well, Robert was pretty worried about how you would handle the news…"

"Robert's my trainee no matter what. I'm going to protect him. This Blake kid…he's going to pay."

I smiled at Cole's concern. "I wish Robert could have told you himself, but I'm glad it doesn't change your relationship with him."

Cole looked away, his chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. "Yeah."

"Look…Robert might not be ready to tell you what happened or how he feels. So…"

"Don't worry, it's safe with me. Rogue's honor."

"I'm going to talk to Robert."

"Not so fast." I froze, momentarily afraid Cole would start asking more about Cole's preferences. "Why is Blake so hell-bent on taking _you_ down?"

I sighed. At least it wasn't over Robert. "Because I'm a girl. And honestly, I'm a decent rogue. And it disgusts him."  
"And somehow it snowballed into you kissing Robert?"

"_Kissing Robert?_"

I closed my eyes, my shoulders tensing as Zen's aura seeped through the house. What was with rogues _always_ walking into situations at the wrong time?

Cole stepped forward, his hand held out in an attempt at inviting calm. "Zen, I've already given Grace the third degree. Now listen to her."

"So you really did?" Zen asked, his piercing eyes now delving into my own.

"Zen, listen!" I begged, his gaze almost too intense to return. I held my breathe as the confusion and betrayal glistened in his eyes. "Zen, please…"

"After _everything_," Zen stated. "After _last night_?"

The heat was rising to my cheeks. Cole finally stepped forward. "Yes, there was a kiss. Zen, hear her out."

"Robert needed my help-"

"You _hate_ Robert!"

"Grace was just protecting me!" Eyes wide, I looked over and watched as Robert thumped down the last stair, his shoulders squared in confidence. "This guy we bumped into threatened to ruin me by telling SI:7 I'm attracted to _Cole_, so Grace saved me by proving otherwise with a kiss."

There was a pause and I felt the tension ready to break. Finally Cole looked at me. "You forgot to mention that part," he stated thinly.

"Is that true, Grace?" asked Zen with a bit of disbelief.

I nodded. "Robert would have taken fault for doing nothing wrong. It was my idea, because I knew _a kiss_ would mean _nothing_. To both of us."

"But a _kiss_, Grace…"

"It meant _nothing_," I repeated. Another moment of silence. Finally Zen exhaled loudly and reached over to lead me to the door. "Cole, I think it's best Grace and I leave."

"Of course. I think we could use a few moments to talk as well," Cole agreed as he shot Robert a glance.

I muttered soft goodbyes so I wouldn't have to sense all of the tension still lingering in the air. Silently I prayed to the Light that everything would be okay between Cole and Robert,

And me and Zen.

We walked silently until we reached Zen's, his prominent shoulders tensed like he was ready to attack. I thought we'd never get home. Surprisingly, when we were finally alone, Zen seemed to calm down.

"Zen, I know it-"

"Grace." With one word Zen had me snapping my mouth shut. "You're a good person. You were just trying to help."

"You…you're not mad at me?" I asked cautiously.

"I won't be mad," Zen began as he leaned in closer and brushed the hair off my neck. "If you kiss me now and admit it _does_ mean something."

I didn't need an invitation. Zen was just good at being attractive—I pulled him in closer, my fists balling the fabric of his coat as my lips connected to his.

With Zen, everything was right. I pushed harder on his lips and felt the urge to let him have all of me resurface.

And the way Zen pressed his body up against me wasn't helping to suppress that urge. His lips never left mine as Zen lead me backwards and pinned me up against the wall.

The kiss didn't subside for a good few moments, but when Zen finally pulled away I felt like I could stay there forever. My hand rested on Zen's neck. "Of course it means something. You mean _everything_."

"You're forgiven."

I smacked Zen playfully. "I think I like laid-back Zen more than business-mode Zen."

"But you fell for business-mode Zen," Zen pointed out as we walked into the bedroom.

"And I'm still trying to figure tat part out," I taunted. Zen pulled me into bed and rested his face in the crook of my neck. "So what's on the list to do tomorrow?" I asked.

"Well…" He pulled up to look at me properly. "_You_ should be heading back to Northrend."

"Back?" I sat up. "But before you said it was too dangerous. And now you want me there?"

"SI:7 thinks you're in Northrend. And you've been making waves around here thus far. And the base is safer now that it's secured."

"But Robert…"

"Cole and Robert will be fine."

"I just feel so responsible…"

"Everything will work out here. I'll get you a port to Northrend."

"Just me? What about-"

"As soon as I'm finished in Stormwind I'll head back, I promise."

I sighed. "Okay, fine. If you promise to help me prepare for the tournament."

"Deal."

* * *

Please review!

Britti


	25. Champion

HELLOOO to all! I have finally updated! Work is so crazy at the hospital, and i thank everyone for coming back to continue reading! Enjoy!

* * *

Book Thirteen, Part One

Champion

The next morning Zen woke me up extra early, encouraged me to put on my Northrend layers, and lead me once again through Stormwind. I groaned as we arrived in the grassy, landscaped area, the flowers lively despite the nip of winter time. "Come on, Zen; Mage Quarters?"

"We're here for our portal."

"The _Mage _quarters?"

"Yes. To see a warlock."

We climbed the spiral stairs leading up to a tower. "Well, he better be good."

"She." Zen knocked on the door dismissively, though I had time to shoot him a nasty glare.

"So not a warlock. A _witch_."

The door swung open before Zen could muster a reply. "Zen!" The brunette jumped through the door's opening with a huge grin, her hood falling off and revealing a golden headband as she wrapped her arms around Zen. I nearly gagged, but I managed to conceal it with an obnoxious cough as she continued to giggle in Zen's arms.

"Heaven, good to see you again."

_Heaven? Really? _"Perfect," I grumbled.

"Zen, you don't come around any more!"

Zen cleared his throat. "Heaven, this is Grace."

"Oh. Hello."

I nodded curtly, taking note of her well-groomed nails and shiny jewelry. Zen leaned in a moment to recapture Heaven's attention. "Heaven, I need a huge favor."

She smiled wider than needed. "Anything for you."

Zen had to of felt my aura darken, but he didn't acknowledge it. "Well, Grace needs a portal to Northrend. Valiance Keep."

"Northrend?"

"I'm a rogue. Stationed there," I explained shortly.

"I see. Well," Heaven perked, "any friend of Zen's is a friend of mine! Come in!"

I grumbled inaudibly as I followed Zen's shuffle into the dorm.

The circular room was decorated in pinks and reds, with a mass of pillows along the couch and bed and frilled curtains along the walls.

I had a feeling this wasn't the first time Zen had seen the outrageous indoor décor. Begrudgingly I watched as Heaven rolled up her sleeves and raised her hands like a magician. "Okay, Gracie, I'm going to conjure this portal and you'll have plenty of time to enter. Just walk in slowly. Oh, and make sure you're prepared for the landing!"

"It's Grace. My name is _Grace_."

"Here we go!" Heaven began to chant something ridiculous, and I was so irritated that I didn't even bother glancing over at Zen. Eventually the bluish ball of light that had formed in Heaven's hands grew larger and left her hands to settle on the floor. It morphed and stretched until eventually I could see the wintery image of m destination.

"Okay, Grace," Zen announced.

I nodded, momentarily tearing my eyes off the portal to look at Zen. "When are you coming?"

"A week or two. It won't be long."

Nodding again, I took a confident step forward and kissed Zen firmly on his lips. "Goodbye," I whispered after pulling away.

"Farewell…Grace." The kiss had clearly surprised Zen, and Heaven watched with irritation as I finally stepped into her creation.

Once I had passed through the strange, tunneled pathway, I was in Northrend, all right. Except my first step in Northrend was onto _air_. I yelped in surprise as I tumbled forward, my body falling through nothingness until I finally landed with a crunch into the cold, cold snow.

The fall must have been three times my height. I cursed loudly, my arms pulling my now ice-capped body up and out of the wet snow. "Stupid!" I growled. "She is _not_ very heavenly! He couldn't find a _male warlock_?" I stood up, the snow falling off my pants and cloak as I brushed them off. "And portals don't belong _fifteen feet in the air_!" I exclaimed loudly, as if I was actually complaining to someone. "Wait 'til he gets back. Just wait."

At least I was in the right place, I thought bitterly. Up past this incline was the banner of the crusade that matched my tabard, was our old base. Sighing, I made sure my weapons were intact and my pack on my belt before I trudged up the slope.

Now that I was back, the cold was chilling again, my arms drawing into my body in an attempt to stay warm.

And that wasn't the only difference. Now that I was here, my migraine had valiantly returned. I couldn't recall the tension in my forehead being this strong—I had made it to the base, but the struggle had finally caused me to close my eyes.

Gregor's lessons had to prevail. I felt like my skull was fragile and ready to cave in to the Lich King's presence. Perhaps I had slacked off in going to Stormwind.

I thought of nothing at first except girding myself from the Lich King's wrath. Once I felt prepared, I prayed to the Light and wished for its protection. The tension eased enough so that I could as least focus on what I was doing. Carefully I massaged my temples as if it would help. It wouldn't.

I pinpointed Taellor's location and stalked to it, still fuming over Heaven's little antic. I was also going to give Taellor a stern talking to for convincing me that Zen was taking me to the Argent Tournament.

He deserved a good lecture. Taellor purposefully set Zen up…

But when I arrived, Taellor greeted me with a friendly smile; either he was a very, very good clever rogue, or a friend.

So I didn't bring my qualms up.

Fordring had left with a few other officers to begin his tournament preparations, and Kae and Vii had left with Graystone to spread the word of the championship across Northrend.

The next few days were slow. The weather was clear so Taellor helped me train a bit on form and swiftness. At night I slept in Taellor's tent. Perhaps part of me was fearful of a Lich King attack inside of my mind. I didn't want to be alone should that happen.

Funny how things had changed, I thought one night in my makeshift bed as Taellor's aura drifted off to sleep. When I first came about with this 'ailment,' I had reacted and fled. I didn't want help, because it was _my_ issue. _My_ responsibility. And now I relied on my friends more than ever.

I still hadn't decided if it was for better or for worse yet.

Training was going well—I hadn't been truly conditioned since being inducted as a rogue. Everything was great with Taellor until day nine, when training had me exhausted. I was panting, the sweat glazed over my neck and back and sending shivers up to my shoulders. Maybe I was pushing too hard this time—but I wasn't thinking that as I dodged a swipe of Taellor's dagger.

I barely even sensed it. My mental status changed as the rush of pressure increased across my entire skull. The tension, paired with my exhaustion, must have brought me to my knees, because my legs throbbed now from impact.

It was cold. Colder than a harsh training session in Northrend, I realized. My eyes had cinched shut, but the blue backdrop I had managed to avoid so long had returned.

Somewhere within my soul was a form of panic; but I was no longer myself.

_My strength has no match._

I couldn't even see him. It was like a fog. Usually I saw what _he_ saw, usually these feelings of bloodlust and remorselessness was in conjunction with a visual—

_Humans are mortal, weak little things…_

Was he even aware of my presence? A part of me was afraid; after all, this crossover was one of the strongest, even _after_ Gregor's training. But my other part, the dominate part, full of his hatred and cruelty, begged to be a part of this vision.

_Your weapons are my weapons._

_Your body is mine to control._

His eyes, ablaze  
with ice, were there. Just his piercing eyes gazed at me, looking right through me. And then my will to leave this crossover flared and the blackness settling in my heart was detectable even in my weakened state.

I didn't like this feeling. I didn't _want_ this feeling. I wanted my body back.

_You are mine._

I was sucked out of the world, and immediately I could register that my own body's soreness and exhaustion had returned.

I blinked just once. Hard. And suddenly Taellor was right in front of me, his Night Elf eyes watching me with a concern I had never seen before. My mouth opened to ask Taellor what was wrong, but then my eyes drifted to what was so horrifying.

It was my hand holding my dagger to Taellor's throat; only after visibly seeing Taellor's hand did I realize he had a firm grip on my hand near his neck. The pressure his fist was putting on my dagger's grip lightened and I took a step back, fingers releasing my blade like it had scalded my skin. "By the Light…" I whispered, voice cracking as my dagger clinked to the gravel below.

"Grace…" Taellor stepped gently toward me as if afraid to startle me back into attack mode.

"N-no!" I stated, arms jutting out to keep Taellor at bay. My hands were trembling in front of me—I realized it was my whole body shaking. "Don't get closer…I d-didn't…I didn't _know-_"

Taellor was too swift. His body was then before me, my arms unable to keep him back. Softly his long arms wrapped around me in protectiveness. "It's okay. It's okay now-"

"Taellor, he was in my head, he was making me…I'm too dangerous."

"Your eyes aren't glowing anymore, you're safe."

"_You're _not safe!" I sputtered, pushing the Night Elf so he was an arm's length away again. Panic worsened my shakiness as I fumbled backward in disbelief of myself. "It's getting worse," I whispered to myself. "He made me…made me push you off that cliff, now I know. And he's getting _better_…this is why…this is why I left Zen, left _everyone-_"

"You're not leaving," Taellor announced firmly.

"Taellor."

"_Grace_." He was a nose away again, his hand moving to cup my cheek and lift my eyes to look at him. "You run off because you think you're a danger. You wander off and his puppets find you, take you, have their _way_ with you and change you into one of _them_. Is _that_ what you want?"

Although the conditioning was over, I was still panting. "No," I whispered.

"You're staying."

"Taellor, I tried to kill you!"

"No, the Lich King did. To try and prove his control over you."

"That's twice I've nearly killed you."

"I'm still breathing. Now come on, we need to find Gregor."

Of course we found him in little time. His eyebrows drew in concern as Taellor explained my new symptom. "He didn't spy this time, it seems," Gregor thought out loud. "He definitely made a tactical change. He caught you off guard with a new move."

"He controlled me again."

"He's powerful, Grace. He wants you to submit to him, but you're a challenge. He revels in challenges."

"So what do I do?"

"We train harder."

There was a pause as I clenched my jaw. A bothersome pit had settled into my stomach. Gregor looked at me with question until I finally exhaled. "I don't think I'll be strong enough…next time."

"You were weakened this time. If anyone is capable of resisting, it's you," Gregor mentioned.

I'm just one rogue in this mess, I wanted to scream. I held my tongue instead.

There was a lot of meditation. I focused a lot on the Light, after all, Gregor would explain, what bigger adversary does the Lich King have than the Light?

For five days Gregor worked with me, conditioning my mind. After nearly two weeks of only training, eating, and sleeping, I felt girded at last. Everything had calmed down within me, most distractions momentarily set aside.

My next challenge was before me. The Argent Tournament only days away. The only thing I waited for was my escort. Zen.

I didn't realize how much I had actually missed him until I felt his aura arrive at our base once again.

Maybe his girlfriend Heaven in Stormwind sent him back here, I thought bitterly.

It was just after supper as I stalked toward where I sensed his aura. He was atop a Stormwind griffin, who gracefully landed before me with a few effortless beats of his snow-white wings. Besides a reddened nose, Zen looked himself. "How did you…?"

Zen dismounted the griffin in one fluid motion as a stablemaster took the bird away. "Borrowed it," he answered.

I smiled faintly. "From your little mistress, Heaven?"

The male rogue visibly grimaced as if he was expecting her name to pop into conversation. "Grace, I told you, she's just a friend."

I growled in disbelief, my arms thrown up as I turned and made my way to my old tent. "A _friend_," I repeated, mumbling to myself but doing it loudly should Zen be close enough to pick up. "Like I couldn't see the way she gazed at you! Like you were the best she'd ever had!" I growled over my shoulder.

"Grace, we might have had a past history, okay, but-"

"I knew it," I sneered, nearly at my tent. "You couldn't get a _male_ warlock, you had to find the prettiest _witch_ to help you!"

"Grace," Zen growled, his patience thinning. I had a certain talent for pushing Zen's buttons. I turned around as I made it to my tent's entrance.

"She did so well in bed with you before that you thought you'd get another taste? Is that how you paid her for her _helpful service_? _In bed_?"

"By the _Light_, Grace!" Zen exclaimed in a low rumble, his body moving forward so that I reeled backward into the tent. Zen's hands moved to my neck, his eyes in slits as he gazed into my own eyes. The male rogue's lips crushed against my own, the contact taking me by surprise as Zen's hands pulled me in closer so his hips moved against mine. His tongue explored my mouth a few moments before the rogue drew back, his teeth managing a quick nip at my lower lip before he pulled away completely. "I _never_… 'bedded' her. We fooled around awhile ago. We flirted maybe. But I would _never_ have sex with Heaven. Not then and not now. I'm waiting for _you_, Grace. For us. You're the only one I-"

I pulled Zen into an embrace, the breath in my lungs exiting in a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I missed you."

Zen's arms firmly wrapped around me, his nose nestled into my neck. After a while in each other's arms, Zen finally cleared his throat. "Are you ready for the championship?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He pulled away. "Your aura…it's not as detectable…did something…?"

"That's a long story."

"I have all night."

With one small sigh I wet my lips. "I almost killed Taellor."

Zen paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Well, I've had that compulsion a few times now…"

I fought against the urge to push Zen so I could explain further. "The Lich King. He used a different strategy so I'd let my guard down for him. He controlled me and I nearly killed Taellor." As Zen's aura grew with worry, I rushed to try to reassure him. "I—I was training hard with Taellor, I was completely fatigued…it must have weakened me so much I-"

"Taellor pushed you too hard?" Zen asked with a clip in his tone.

Caught off guard, I sighed in exasperation. "Zen, no—no, he didn't…I was training. Taellor wasn't pushing too hard, so leave it alone!"

"Did you…did Taellor tell…"

"We explained it to Gregor. He worked with me constantly for almost a week. That's probably why my aura's…more controlled," I explained. "I'm stronger now."

His hand caressed my cheek, other hand twining its fingers in my hair. "Grace," he began rather gently for how brazen he had acted previously. "It's getting worse for you. And if you make it through Fordring's tournament and you storm the Lich King's lair…"

"I will die before I let him control me again," I promised solidly, already understanding where Zen's concern was leading to.

Zen's face twisted at the thought, his body tensed as he embraced me yet again. His actions and aura said what he couldn't: "_I won't let you die_."

Because not even Zen, my true guardian and savior, could give me a promise such as that and be perfectly certain of its truth.

Before our departure, I managed to sneak away in the hopes of convincing Taellor to come along. When I mentioned the possibility to the Night Elf, he sighed. "Grace, I'm not going there to compete."

I felt my forehead wrinkle up. "But you're part of this, part of the crusade…"

"I know."

My lips pursed. "Taellor, I-"

"I'll be there, to help Fordring. I'm under his command. I'll be there to aid him."

A smile wouldn't stop forming as I exhaled with excitement. "So you'll be there!"

"Of course."

I hugged Taellor, his surprise appearing in his aura. Before exiting, I faced Taellor once more. "Really, Taellor…it wouldn't be the same without you."

The Night Elf smiled, perhaps in amusement as I finally took my leave.

Zen was waiting for me at the stables, and to my concern, I realized he was holding the harness to the white griffin he had arrived on. "Really?" I asked apprehensively, dropping my heavy pack and readjusting my full geared outfit.

"On good old Justice here, a week-long trip on a horse will only be half a day."

"You want me…to get on that thing?"

"His name is Justice. And the answer is yes."

"Are two people going to fit...?"

"Get on, Grace, before I change my mind and leave you here!"

Grumbling, I picked up my bag, tightened it across my shoulder, and carefully mounted the beast with Zen's help.

The lift off was the worst part. Not that flying miles and miles above frozen land and mountain ranges wasn't slightly terrifying. I felt Justice's body strain with every beat of his wings, and unwilling to watch should he tire and plunge us to our death, I tucked my face into the fabric of Zen's cloak. Undead fledglings I could defeat. Hordes of Horde I could face without a bat of the eye. But flying…

We only made a couple of stops for rest, and my patience was beginning to thin until Zen called my name over his shoulder and pointed down. "The tournament grounds," I barely heard over the whistling wind.

Numerous tents dotted a large, rectangular entrance. Dots that I assumed to be bodies populated the area. "It looks like a carnival in the middle of Northrend," I commented. Zen chuckled lightly as he led Justice to circle around for a landing.

Oh, and the part about taking off being scariest—the landing was just as terrifying. I only exhaled after we came to a complete stop. Now I could pay more attention to the melting pot of auras surrounding me.

Even the smelly ones.

I scrunched my nose. "There's a lot of Horde," I commented.

"A very good turnout, I'd say."

A Human female approached us in mage robes, her smile distracting me momentarily from the Orc parade. "Good evening! Members of the Alliance can register at the Silver Convenant pavilion," she instructed, painting the way with an even bigger smile.

Zen bowed in thanks and the greeter left to continue giving instructions to more new arrivals.

We didn't head in the direction of the Alliance tent, I noted as Zen guided me through the crowds. Some races and classes I wasn't as acquainted with, such as Trolls and Orcs, shamans and druids, were now hustling by only a grab away from me. Blood Elf paladins kept watchful eyes on Zen and me, reminding me of the battle of the Plaguelands where a paladin consecration had nearly singed me.

Now it felt odd—wrong, even—to be simply passing by announced enemies of the Alliance. But the necessity of unity was seemingly so prominent now. What had Taellor said? You could have twice the enemies or twice the allies?

Still, it wasn't the most comfortable situation. I stopped, befuddled as Zen and I made it before Fordring, King Wrynn, and Jaina.

"…I'm enlightened your court could make it to attend, King Wrynn," Fordring said.

"I wouldn't miss this tournament. The Lich King must end before his army attacks us once again. And succeeds in wiping out the living."

Keeping my aura in check, I tried to forget the fact that I had tried convincing our king of that very concept months ago. A few more lines of conversation went back and forth between Fordring and Wrynn. Zen and I waited (for what, I was uncertain) until the king and Jaina left.

"Lieutenant Ashthorn! Miss Fulstorm!"

Zen greeted our superior with a bow and I followed suite, still lingering on why we hadn't already registered. Maybe Zen changed his mind about me entering the tournament after all.

"Are you settling in comfortably?"

Maybe I could somehow sneak away, maybe use my vanishing powder, create a distraction…

"We're just about to register for your tournament, Highlord."

Or I could wait.

"It's Fordring, Lieutenant. You and Grace are two of my own; I would be foolish to make you prove your worthiness to this cause _again_." My eyebrow perked again in curiosity. A free pass from the man who created the tournament? "Follow me."

And we did. Now we arrived at our Alliance tent, a few Alliance members greeting us—well, Fordring, I suppose—with bows. "Highlord Fordring!"

"Taelist, I have a special request for these two crusaders. They have far excelled the skills needed to become champions of their cities."

Zen peered over, shock evident on his face although his aura concealed surprise fairly well. "Fordring," Zen began. "That's not nec-"

Tirion's hand rose, effectively cutting Zen off. "The assistance I've gained in the crusade should be rewarded. I'll give you a break—but you still have to compete at the end of the tournament."

"The hardest part," I surmised. Fordring smiled confidently, though I was unsure if he was confident in the challenge or in our abilities.

Then I decided I didn't have to know.

"Of course, I still suggest you practice. Especially with your champion equipment."

Champion equipment? The Alliance officials seemed to register the pair of words as slowly as I had; with a slight delay the female perked in response. "Yes, the rogues…" She rustled through trunks behind her. I don't think they were expecting any champions any time soon. "As a champion of Stormwind, you are to wear the gear of a champion."

There were new daggers, even set in their own fine, silver case. We also received new gear—a chest piece, helmet, and shoulderpads.

The chest piece was very finely woven leather, lightweight and breathable but much more durable than my own. The shoulders were a bit heavier, but very protective and more stylish.

I could even tolerate the headpiece, if I pulled my hair back into a loose bun. It wasn't perfect—my head of hair never really fit properly in helmets—but I could fight.

Zen and I would room together in a tent much like the one we had left at our base. It was there I admired the handiwork of this new pair of daggers. Utilizing this new piece of equipment would be the most difficult. "They're nice daggers," Zen commented, already sharpening his new blades.

I couldn't call them mine. "They're nice." Zen paused a moment, eyes looking over to ask me to continue. "I just…my daggers are special. They've been at my side since I was initiated."

"These  
daggers are lighter and swifter-"

"Mine were a gift from the rogue who trained me into what I am," I argued softly.

Zen smiled, though his eyes gleamed with a pain I didn't want to pinpoint. Maybe Zen was reminiscing of our memories together, too.

There may not be any more memories after the battle.

I later learned that there would be a week before the _real_ tests—at Crusader's Coliseum, the _huge_ stadium everything was settled around. For the week, the others had to perform menial tasks to gain crusader tokens that would signify their completion of quests.

As champions, we had to become crusaders. This meant defeating three other champions of other cities, and killing Undead. Two of my specialties. And it wasn't difficult. Finding Undead around Northrend was like finding a Dwarf at a tavern. Without the awkward accents. And defeating three champions? Well, we didn't have very many to challenge for a few days, but when we did, I was happy to defeat an Undead from the Undercity, an Orc from Orgimmar, and a Blood Elf from Silvermoon.

It wasn't easy. Not in the least. But bloodshed and pain were minimal—only because duels at the tournament were heavily subdued with rules and regulations, and slathered with healing and mana potions.

The officials decided when a duel ended. Sometimes matches were close. Sometimes they were landslides.

I won my first three. Needless to say, so did Zen. In four days I was a crusader—Zen, who always excelled, even now, was titled crusader in three.

The day of the beginning of final tests arrived, appropriately called the Trial of the Champion. Fordring explained it to all of us, his voice booming as his paladin gear glowed golden. Two sections. Ten of us will go in, since the number of crusaders was large. Some could be seriously injured. Some could die. And Tirion would decide when to call a battle, and who would move on in a match. I hoped it would be called before anyone _did_ die.

We had friends here now. Everyone from Northrend, including Vii and Kae and Taellor, who had wished me luck before our battle; and even Cole and Robert—though I wasn't sure if Robert was competing, I knew Cole wouldn't turn down an opportunity to fight.

Three groups of ten had already gone. Horde, Alliance, Horde. In some miraculous (or purposeful) occurrence, Zen and I were in the same group. We were so used to fighting alongside each other; I saw it as a blessing and advantage.

Before we entered the battleground, I looked over our group of ten Alliance members. None talked as we waited for our gate to open; the ongoing cheers outside drowned out the pounding of our heartbeats.

It was an interesting mix. Including me, three females—though the others were a Gnome mage and a Night Elf druid. A Druid shaman, who was already chanting some magical words, shifted his weight in front of me, his tail swishing in anticipation behind him. Our tank, a Dwarf paladin, was stretching his arms, and I prayed he was sober.

A Night Elf hunter had his feline friend at his side. Wincing, I was reminded of Taellor, although the hunter's skin wasn't a pretty blue, but a more sickly green color. The female druid, also a Night Elf, was almost too beautiful, her blue hair pulled back as her many elven jewels caught what little light we had. Her limbs were long, jaw line perfectly etched as she gazed onward with her brilliant eyes.

She was perfect for Taellor.

I winced again.

Some earlier crusaders had to be carried out of the coliseum or resuscitated on the spot. I had heard about it, I hadn't watched myself. Zen and I had been distanced recently. Not of choice; the tournament had us constantly moving and training and fighting. Right now, Zen's gloved hand quietly reached for my own and squeezed. When I looked over, Zen's eyes met mine and we shared a final quiet moment together.

The nervousness and fear of what-ifs and the thought of loss was subdued at the moment. A battle lingered before us, and my rogue instincts had quelled most other emotions. Like Zen had taught me to.

A breath hitched in my lungs, my hands suddenly quivering noticeably. So not _all_ of my nervousness was controlled after all.

A low crunching, grating noise erupted before us, but it was quickly drowned out by the crescendo of cheers. I exhaled, watching patiently with the others as the iron gate lifted; Zen's hand left my own, my hands reaching the hilt of my daggers for comfort.

The first step toward our fate was the hardest. Some parts were unknown. Who we were fighting, how long, how we'd do it…but we knew that what was before us now would define our own—and everyone else's—future.

We walked into the arena as a group, our arrival welcomed by waves of applause. Up in the front rows of seats, right in front of us, was Fordring. Taellor was near him, though I couldn't make out his expression. To our right, the Horde leader, Thrall, decorated with his officials and their blood-red banners with the symbol of the Horde. Across from that, King Varian Wrynn and the Alliance banner that symbolized so much to me.

Fordring said a few words I probably should have listened to, but I was too preoccupied with watching the gate opposite us. Our opponents' gate.

"Crusaders, prepare! Mount up your steed!"

Steed?

The familiar grating noise met my ears, the hair on my arms rising in anticipation. I blinked, finally snapping to attention and sprawling for a horse. Zen and I had practiced jousting during the week, but now, as I settled onto the brown horse and gripped my javelin, doubt clouded my mind.

Our enemies arrived, and to my surprise, the enemy was Horde soldiers, in the tabards and everything.

For a moment I hesitated—how was this going to promote our unity? But we were natural enemies, and fighting was natural.

So we charged. Surprisingly, the Horde wasn't very difficult. Sure, it was a challenge, but in little time we had them injured and unable to fight. I looked around, to the others, who were just as wary as I. We had similar thoughts. Too easy.

Then it grew silent as three more figures stepped through. The auras were much stronger and emanated power.

More Horde, but this was serious; this was the real fight. As if I needed prompting, Fordring advised us to dismount. Tossing my javelin aside, I stood straight and looked over our _new_ opponents. One was a rogue. An Undead, whose skeletal, horned helmet reflected how the rest of his body looked. His daggers were slick and sharper than his horns.

A huge, bulky Orc held an axe that grinned at us. His shield hid most of his torso as he rolled his shoulders back in preparation. Lastly, there stood a Tauren with dark fur and his own pair of horns, whose staff pounded into the hardened ground.

"Crusaders, your opponents! The Grand Champions of the Horde! Deathstalker Visceri, Makra the Skullcrusher, and Runak Wildmane!"

And he _was_ a skull crusher. The Orc warrior was rushing immediately, his steps thundering as he approached. My heart must have stopped.

"He's mine!"

Our tank, the Dwarf paladin, drew his own axe and met Makra in the middle, a consecration and a blast of Light flashing past my eyesight.

The hunter's tiger was charging Makra as well, and already an arrow was lodged into the enemy's shield.

Our Dwarf mage was casting spells next to me, but my focus was on the rogue whose attention was drawn to me.

I cursed, my daggers out in a flash as Visceri's own blades swung at my face. I sidestepped, my blade meeting his momentarily as I weakly parried.

"I've got it."

Our little gnome warrior had come to my assistance, his shield much larger than it should be for his body size. But his aggression erupted in a loud, tantalizing shout. Visceri seemed to hiss, a grin on his face as he targeted the little warrior. He distracted the rogue well for a while, as I also slashed away and managed a few good cuts into the Undead's arms and torso.

"Take the rogue down fast!"

Zen must have been at the warrior. Or at the shaman, who was healing too rapidly for us to catch up to.

Visceri's daggers had attracted the attention of our beautiful Night Elf druid, who was now in cat form and trying to sink her teeth into Visceri's legs. Someone, somewhere was healing our Gnome warrior, although even with the help of the Light, he was slowing down.

Our Undead enemy was agitated now. With a gurgle he jumped back, a vial of green ichor now in his clawed hands. "Damn! Get ba-"

I was cut off by the sound of breaking glass, the poison immediately rising and meeting our senses. My eyes stung, and I reeled backward as my vision blurred. Eyes watering, I steadied myself even though my throat burned and felt swollen shut. A hoarse cough escaped my lungs, but when I exhaled, air wouldn't enter.

My heart rate must have climbed to the sky. I fell to my hands and knees, air escaping my chest but not re-entering to soothe my panic. I was trapped.

"Shaman! The poison!"

Was that Zen's voice?

I reached out blindly—I had dropped my daggers in my panic, how could I be so clumsy—but without clear vision, it was useless. Warm blood was rushing to my head in a last attempt to keep me conscious.

"I've got the Orc…"

"Druid, distract the rogue!"

I heard a feral growl, a sick tearing noise, and finally, I could inhale, my senses less and less clouded until I could finally see well enough to grab my daggers. The shaman had placed a totem. Visceri wanted to destroy it, but the druid's claws were keeping him too occupied. And now that the poison was neutralized, the enemy rogue had the warrior, a hunter, Zen, and the druid to worry about.

Obviously Visceri was too big of a threat—we worked on finishing him. Our effort was proving worthwhile. The enemy panted, shoulders sagging as he slashed away. I was back at attacking him, though my throat was sore like I had been caught in a Northrend blizzard for three days.

It must have been Visceri's last attempt at doing real damage. The rogue reached into a pocket, revealing numerous knives that he gripped tightly. "Grace, move-"

He unleashed the little blades; they fanned out around him. I meant to dodge—I think I had stepped back, even—but I was one move behind. One knife grazed my breastplate, but the leather did its job. Another lodged into my skin just under my collarbone.

The pain hit first, followed by shock. Immediately the blood pooled around the silver weapon, the smell of copper hitting my nose as my right hand gently reached over to touch the end of the blade. I grew nauseous at the sight of torn skin and crimson blood. If I wanted to fight, though, the blade had to come out. Carefully I grasped the protruding part of the knife, and numbly I found myself wishing I had Zen to pull it out.

Of course, Zen was busy fighting. Everyone was. My grip tightened, muscles in my jaw clenched as I held my breath. And tugged.

The tensing didn't help. I cried out in pain, my body shuddering as more blood slipped from the throbbing gape. At first, I wanted to cover it with my hand—but too much time had passed and I had to fight.

My bloody hand I scrubbed on the dirt floor below me, and now I could continue our fight with Visceri. Or at least try to.

It didn't take much longer. One more arrow lodged into Visceri's armor, and he stumbled back, onto a knee; his arms reached out to break his impending fall.

"Visceri is finished!" A voice boomed. Within that moment the Horde rogue was in a paladin shield, and medics rushed onto the scene with a stretcher.

The druid turned her attention first. She sat on her hind legs and ran at full speed, her slick body colliding into the enemy shaman. The rest focused on Maruk, our warrior enemy—the Dwarf mage was doing well distracting the shaman at just the right distance, and now the druid was running circles around the bulky Tauren, her teeth nipping when she caught an opportunity.

Our healers were going strong—a mana totem was probably up near their station.

Before I could reach my new target, he began spinning, faster and faster so that one single blow would surely be game over. "He has a mean bladestorm!" the warrior Gnome announced as if we couldn't tell.

Everyone approached Maruk again, intent on a swift end—but once I had managed to get close, the Orc's axe slammed into the earth, the force shaking the ground and effectively knocking back everyone close enough to feel the wave.

My rear end padded my fall, but the skid backwards was painful and I knew I would feel it in the morning. I exhaled. Being tossed around was wearing me out. And this wound…I looked over, swallowing hard as I inspected the gape in my skin and forced my gaze to shift to Maruk.

Quickly I pulled myself up. I couldn't linger on the thoughts right now; it only made me hesitate during the fight. The tank bounced back first. Our Dwarf paladin facing off against the obnoxiously large Orc would have been comical, if our lives weren't on the line.

He was strong, but he had the same handful of moves. The mage and druid had finally knocked out Runak, the healer, and it made the kill so much easier.

Our druid had possession of the final blow; her paw struck Makra across the chest, a splash of crimson in its wake as the warrior finally fell to his knees.

Fordring and Thrall both stood, and almost as immediately as the signal was given, the protective shield was glowing around Makra, his heavy body collapsing in the dirt. Flashes of Light kept Makra alive until someone could get to him; Fordring's voice boomed that the match was over.

"Crusaders, prepare for your second fight."

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YAYYYY update when I get enough views =] i hope everyone is still out there!


	26. Champion, Pt 2

Hello Lovely Readers =]

You all make my day! So here it is! Next chap! And hopefully soon a bonus chapter I'm working on to soothe the never ending fight scenes =]

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Random fact of my story for this chapter: Grace's last name was purposely picked. Grace Fulstorm = Graceful Storm. Cheers!

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Book Thirteen, Part Two

Champion

We didn't even have time for a sigh of relief. Our druid and paladins provided us with the buffs that they could muster, the healers helped our damage inflictors recuperate. The male paladin, a Draenei who didn't seem quite as drained as the rest of us, approached me and silently covered my bloody wound with a hand. "Don't waste your m-"

"I won't let you bleed out on us," the Draenei answered in perfect common. I nodded, noting that the gate was beginning to grind open just as the paladin's warm touch dissipated.

"Well fought!" Tirion boomed with almost a jovial tone. "Your next challenge comes from the Crusade's own ranks. You will be tested against their considerable prowess."

"The next combatant is second to none in her passion for upholding the Light. I give you…Argent Confessor Paletress!" another voice announced.

There was a roar of excitement from the crowd as a blonde haired woman appeared out of the gate, accompanied by three other Argent soldiers in their usual tabards. The one I, too, had in my luggage.

Confessor?

She looked intimidating enough, and the others flanking her gave her an aura of power and importance. "Thank you, good herald. Your words are too kind. May the Light give me strength to provide a worthy challenge." She bowed slightly toward Fordring, who nodded.

"You may begin!"

With a flick of her wrist, Paletress readied her other soldiers. The familiar tabards were so familiar, and the thought of attacking those I had aided in Northrend was disturbing.

First Horde, now crusade members. It was supposed to be a game, and yet I felt like my life was on the line.

No one would be there to cast a protective shield when we fought the Lich King. And this was a real battle. My real blood was now drying dark brown on my leather chest piece.

There was a priestess, a warrior, and a priest—or monk, I presumed, from his strange garb, and they all charged, and axe glinting in the sun as it raised above the enemy's head and charged toward our group.

The Dwarf paladin immediately took ownership of the other warrior. Two axes were locked together, but our Dwarf faltered, his footing slipping as he barely dodged a clean swipe to his head. "Someone needs to distract that monk!"

"I've got the girl," the druid purred, instantly morphing into her feline form and pawing toward the younger female.

"That's not polite!" the Confessor berated in her sweet voice. Instantly her hand was out, a flash of light streaking from her palm and striking the druid's fur in starbursts. The cat's legs immediately went rigid, then she backed up one, two, three steps, and I realized her eyes were void. I glanced back at the priestess, who wouldn't take her gaze off of the druid before her.

All of the others must have either been preoccupied with the other two, or just as enchanted as I was. Fear of the unknown had me locked in place, watching.

Our druid was sprinting again, though now it wasn't toward our enemy. The other Night Elf in our group—the hunter—had his mouth agape in shock as the purple claws collided into his protected chest, effectively bowling him over and pinning him to the hardened ground. "Nalia!" he gasped loudly, his bow long forgotten and skittering away.

She growled in response, and in the man's eyes I saw much more than surprise—it was hurt, befuddlement, and betrayal. I realized then that their bond ran deeper than this fight. I should have picked up on the similarities between brother and sister much quicker than I had. Or I would have, say, if there wasn't a huge battle before us.

"It's a mind control," I shouted. "We have to break the priestess' concentration!"

Was everyone else busy elsewhere?

Her claws were stuck in him good, and the hunter wasn't going to lift a finger to hurt his own blood. I began to pace toward the two, my hands on my daggers, until a blur of white whipped by me, its momentum crushing into Nalia. Once the blur settled, I realized it was the hunter's pet, which had come to his owner's aid. The white tiger was considerably smaller than the druid's cat form, and we didn't have much time before the cat fight turned serious. I glanced back at the male Night Elf, who had mustered enough strength to pull himself to a seated position despite his gash wounds. Even so, all he could do was watch a personal nightmare unfold before him.

Up to me. It was all on me now. The two cats had begun to scrap, but the little white warrior had managed to momentarily separate himself from the fierce Nalia.

Clumsily I grabbed my bow, my palms now noticeably sweaty. I didn't even realize I had my arrow at the ready until my arm had pulled back on the string, my muscles straining with the effort.

My posture probably wasn't perfect, and Cole would have probably berated me for it, but I had my shot. The arrow sailed, its approach drowned out by the roars of battle and cheers, until it landed firmly into the priestess' arm.

Her mind control must have immediately broke—I couldn't help but watch to be sure Nalia was no longer an involuntary enemy. But the injury I had inflicted on the girl must have caused a quick jerk reflex in her mind control—Nalia's body flew sideways like a stuffed tiger doll being thrown, her long feline body crushing into the arena wall and sending splintering cracks up the stone.

Nalia's body went limp and fell to the ground, but I knew she wasn't dead as she morphed into her Night Elf form. The impact had knocked her out.

"Someone wake her up!" I barked. Thank the Light that the Draenei shaman was willing—he rushed over to Nalia's motionless body.

"Clever girl."

My jaw clenched. I couldn't avoid the priestess any longer. I had most definitely caught her attention now. With my hands gripping my daggers I watched her break off the stem of my arrow. "You think…a little poison…will save you?"

"Maybe not me," I growled.

"Maybe _not_," she conceded, hurling a ball of energy right toward me.

The brightness made me squint, my body subconsciously bracing for impact, when I was knocked over into the ground. After recognizing that I was still alive amongst cheers of a crowd, I opened my eyes to see Zen on top of me. It was his shoulder that had tackled me out of harm's way. "Do you have a death wish?" he growled. But I couldn't answer; already we were both sprawling back to our feet.

"How chivalrous of you to protect her, rogue," the priestess cooed. "But how do you protect her from yourself?"

"_No-_" I reached for Zen, but the attack hit dead-on. Zen couldn't even fathom dodging in time; when the blast arrived, he went rigid and pale. "Zen!" I called out too late, and when my arm finally made it to grasp his arm, I was stopped with a good backhand to the jaw.

Tears were immediately swelling in my eyes due to the brute force of the hit, and I had to step back to keep my footing as my mind replayed what had just happened. Zen had hit me.

Then his weapons were drawn, and I found myself torn between the dangerous proximity of his glittering blades and the vacancy of his green eyes. He attacked first, his blades trying to slice me open. I parried successfully the first time, our crowd growling louder at the turn of events. I ducked as another precarious swipe grew too close. "Somebody attack her!" I yelled, blocking attack after attack. "I need some sort of damage on her, the shaman or the mage or _someone_!"

Zen's daggers finally locked onto my own, the stalemate of all four blades a breath away from my face, my arms shaking from the weight. Thankfully, the others had pulled out of their stupors to listen to my order, the mage conjuring something in her hands.

I couldn't really be angry over the Night Elf hunter's hesitancy to Nalia's attack. What kind of person could intentionally harm the one they love?

Our stalemate broke, the sudden weightlessness on my daggers causing me to lurch forward. Had I lost my concentration in those moments, letting Zen gain control? For a moment my eyes snapped shut, preparing for the searing pain that would rip through my abdomen now that I left my whole body open. Death by Zen's dagger, now there was one I didn't expect.

Maybe it was the hush of the crowd, or the fact that I was still alive, but my eyes opened and relief flushed through my body as Zen's familiar, lively green eyes now filled with concern as he helped me keep my balance on my two feet. "Grace-"

"I'm okay," I breathed.

"Foolish!"

A blast of Light distracted Zen and me, the wave of gold zipping through the battlefield and even causing my hair to sway until it struck the priestess' target.

The Dwarf mage never had a chance as the blow casted her backwards. Her cloth armor was no match against a full-on magical blast, and a protective shield had to blanket the mage from further injury. "…Champion of Ironforge is finished with the competition!"

Our gnome tank must have successfully finished off the monk, because now he arrived to help out with the priestess, who could barely dodge the large axe and ended up taking a heavy blow from a lightning bolt courtesy of our shaman. The priestess staggered backward in surprise, her clothes now seared and charred as her skin reddened from flash burns. Mercifully, our little Gnome tank bashed his shield into the girl's thorax, a resounding _crack_ muffling her scream of pain. Finally, a bubble surrounded our enemy, and immediately I zoned in on the remaining warrior.

This fight should have been easy until the Confessor, but we were tired and losing focus. And losing fighters.

"Nalia, Champion of Darnassus, has been disqualified for being unable to fight."

Damn.

But there were still enough of us, and the warrior didn't have much of a chance against the damage we could muster. Finally, we could fight Paletress. She approached briskly, her back perfectly straight as she reached out with one hand. "Even the good have dark moments…"

"This lass is _mine_," the Dwarf paladin announced, taking two burly steps toward Paletress.

"_Wait-_"

A shaman bolt hurled toward Paletress, but I watched in awe as it reflected off an invisible shield protecting her.

I didn't see anything more. Everything went black, and when the curtain of darkness lifted, I was in an open field. I didn't have time to wonder how I'd gotten here—the smell and nearly unbearable aura of rotten corpses filled my senses.

Undead.

My body was shaking again, and the hand gripping my arm tightened in reassurance as I tilted my chin. Dennis' usually soft features were distorted with concern. "No, no," I said under my breath. I had no control over what I said or did-a far too familiar feeling nowadays—but this was a different feeling than the crossovers of the Lich King. This was a _memory_, the one single memory of my entire life that I never, ever wanted to relive. My eyes now caught site of the lake the Undead army would soon appear around, and numbly I wished I would just look over to Dennis, over every feature of his face, and hold him and beg him because this time I knew what would happen, I knew how this ended. "What do you have of theirs? What document?" My voice was unusually high in pitch.

"How did you know about…"

Dennis' aura stiffened as he, too, sensed the danger ahead. If I could just touch his face, grab his hand…

"There's an army of them. They have orders to kill us."

Edgar appeared in my line of sight, unable to hide his amusement. "The Scourge?"

"They're moving."

Impending doom had me trembling and scared, and I couldn't even gather the courage to move toward my daggers.

"Three Humans versus Eighty Undead," Edgar growled. "How do you like those odds?"

I watched Dennis, whose expression never faltered. He had known long before now what he was to do. I hated it. "How about two versus eighty?"

The yellowed envelop was now in Dennis' hands. I tried to scream, I wanted to take the stupid parchment and throw it into the damn lake.

"I always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory."

Everything happened fast, faster than I remembered. Before I knew it, I had again shoved the envelope back into Dennis' possession, rejecting his ideas of kindness and chivalry. "_I'm not leaving_." I couldn't breathe. "If you go, _I_ go."

Moments blurred by until Dennis completely faced me. "You need to trust me. You're not going to die here…"

Make it stop.

All of the emotions, every little detail and color was the exact same. Take me back to the fight. I would have rather endured a thousand of Visceri's blades than see this again.

"Don't do this. Don't make me," I begged. Dennis' hands had been gripping my arms to hold me up on my feet, but now he gently cupped my cheek. The pattern he had traced numerous times before now he marked on my forehead, and then his kiss, cool against my hot skin as Dennis tried not to show his own fear.

My hearthstone. I was fumbling for it as the enemy descended. "We'll hold them off as long as possible…" Dennis' voice drifted in and out of my memory. His face had never left my memory; it was calm and collected as it had always been in my recollections. "No regrets, Grace." Dennis turned away, my heart wrenching a second time.

My hand was burning. There was a flash of green light, and I could no longer see my best friend.

I was still shaking when the rustle of the crowd came back to my ears. Carefully, my eyes fluttered open, and it took me a couple of deliberate blinks to realize I was now curled up on the battleground, the dirt mottled on my cheek due to my tears. Once I recalled where I was, I lifted my face and immediately looked around.

My heart rate was still pulsing through my temples, and I felt like I was having a panic attack with the way I couldn't catch my breath. Slews of words were coming from the bystanders, but I couldn't recognize if it was encouragement or slander.

I had almost expected to see Dennis amongst us, but as I apprehensively looked around I saw the Confessor, her hand still raised, and some of the others.

One of our healers—the Draenei paladin—was trying to stir awake our miniature Gnome tank, who seemed to be rolling side to side on his back as he patted down an imaginary fire. The hunter's feline was pawing at its owner, who was screaming as he experienced his own old memory. The horrible image made me want to grit my teeth; but the tiger settled beside the Night Elf, his snout occasionally nudging his master. Our shaman was badly burned on one side of his robes, but he was alive and stirring awake as I had. Paletress, thankfully, was preoccupied with our Dwarf tank, who was surprisingly awake and very aware of the goings-on.

And Zen. Weakly, and with a cough I had procured sometime during the fight, I slithered on my belly toward his body. Zen was lying on his stomach, but his face was turned toward me as I gently shook his shoulder. My voice was dry and cracked as I called out his name.

"M..m-" Zen muttered random sounds in his sleep, his body and face contorted in fear. Seeing Zen so vulnerable was frustrating me, my body ready to shut off and break down. I was a blink away from losing it, my head pounding and distinctly reminding me of the Lich King's crossovers; but Zen's eyes finally snapped open, and all I could do was draw back as he bolted upright and shuffled backwards.

"Zen, it's okay," I said firmly. I wanted to be soft and soothing, but I needed Zen here on the battlefield. After a few breaths, Zen seemed more aware and I finally picked myself up, minding that I still had my daggers at my side.

"Thank the Light!" Our Draenei healer hollered. "I was thinkin' I'd have to jump in!"

The Gnome warrior was still incapacitated, but our Dwarf was taking on Paletress single-handedly. I did a mental count of our group and paused, perplexed.

"We lost our priest healer," the Draenei announced. "He tried to help the shaman when his lightning bolt backfired…the priest got too close…"

Zen kicked the charred dirt surrounding us, perhaps in agitation. "Holy fire," he acknowledged. I cursed. "We're getting too tired. We have to end this. It can't be direct, we have to sneak and distract…"

I nodded at Zen's words. "Vanishing powder?"

Zen looked me over. "How much do you have?"

"A couple handfuls."

He nodded, lips tightening. "I have some as well. We'll use it…you have a natural talent for hiding your aura. I'll distract her…appear in front. You shoot from the back."

Parts of his plan I doubted. Like whether _I_ was more adept at sneaking around undetected. Or like how well the plan would work.

Curtly, I nodded anyway, noticing that Zen had meanwhile glanced at our lone healer, who nodded in understanding. "Okay, we'll get a little closer and use the powder."

Zen and I broke out into a jog that must have looked like an attempt at suicide as we neared the priestess. She finally caught wind of our approach, her nearly evil grin spreading. "A challenge, perhaps?" she asked, a ball of light forming in her hand as she knocked our Dwarf over.

I didn't need a signal from Zen. I merely tilted my forehead forward, concentrating on the enemy and pushing the thoughts of Zen being in danger away. We both released our powder, the explosion creating an instant smoke that covered nearly half of the battleground. And if Paletress couldn't see, she couldn't hit her target.

It was second nature to conceal my aura, but I only had moments to maneuver behind the confessor before the smog would lift and blow my cover.

Just as I made it to my position, Paletress spotted Zen, who had appeared an arm's length away from her. "That's the best Stormwind has to offer?" she asked, her staff reeling back to deliver a lethal blow.

"Quick to judge," Zen snarled with a scowl.

I struck once I had a good visual, my blade sinking too easily into her back with a chilling sound of ripping flesh and a cry of shock. Quickly I withdrew my dagger and back peddled; Paletress attempted to turn, perhaps to punish me, but Zen's dagger slashed out, a clean cut appearing across her upper arm. Paletress hissed, the pain disorienting her and causing a moment's hesitation as she decided on whom to lash out against.

She took too long to decide. Before the tank, Zen, or I could move to attack, a streak of arcane magic blew by; only after it was lodged into Paletress' chest did I realize it was an arrow. The magic in its tip made crackling noises, like ice breaking beneath an extreme weight. The particles of magic would burst and cause burns across the priestess' skin.

Our hunter was standing, his lungs noticeably exasperated as he lowered his bow and swayed. But his attempt had proven worthwhile as our enemy collapsed, the medics immediately coming to her aid.

"Confessor Paletress has been defeated!"

The crowd roared. Even members of the Horde seemed impressed. For once, I simply breathed and felt the rush of excitement and relief. And pride.

Cheers began to settle as Fordring raised his hand, a grin spreading across his cheeks. "Well done. You have proven yourself today-"

Someone grabbed Fordring's arm, his blue armor mixing with the rest of the blues in the seats. Now that I didn't have to focus on Paletress, I caught the strange sensation as well. Something felt wrong, and this man seemed to feel the same.

The hair on my neck stood on end, my head filling with a painful pressure. In a moment though, the uneasiness had withered—my fear had not.

"What's that, up near the rafters?" the man at Fordring's side asked loudly.

Thousands of pairs of eyes now followed his pointed finger, and it was then that I spotted the reason for my pounding headache.

"You spoiled my entrance, rat." The Undead being hopped down from his hiding spot, his bones crunching together as he landed right inside the arena battleground.

Those of us left in the arena took steps back, and the crowd that had been cheering moments ago now screamed in panic. Armored in completely black, except his red pauldrons that looked like the eyes of evil, I knew this Undead being could belong to no one other than the Lich King.

And he could prove his loyalty, too. With a simple raise of his hand he casted a dark spell; it sailed through the arena and crashed into the man that revealed him. The victim was hit with a dark shadow, his body first crushing into the wall behind him and then throttling forward to topple off the banister and land into our arena, motionless.

More screams. Zen somehow had made it to me, and now his hand grabbed mine and attempted to pull me back behind him.

"_What is the meaning of this_?" growled Fordring, his hands gripping the railing so firmly I was sure the stone would merely disintegrate.

"Did you honestly think that an agent of the Lich King would be bested on the field of your little tournament." The death knight raised his ebon blade, slinging it over his shoulder. "I've come to finish my task. _This farce ends here!_"

Confusion clouded my mind. How could he just waltz into a tournament ground…

King Varian Wrynn took a step forward, nearly leaning his whole body over the banister as he looked us over. "Don't just stand there; _kill him_!"

We exchanged quick glances, and in one moment we all agreed with a nod. Battle on.

I took a step forward, the Dwarf tank seemingly fully recharged as he sauntered over to the death knight. "This should be fun," the knight hissed. A black starburst was forming at his hands, and before we could stop his cast, it erupted. "Meet my new friend."

He had raised a ghoul with his spell; the disturbing part being that the ghoul had just been alive moments ago, at Fordring's side before he had been murdered.

Our hunter was the first to react; from his pack he took out a trap that he laid out carefully even as the ghoul moved for him. It was a success; the ghoul sauntered over to the trap and was immediately caught in a block of ice.

"We don't have much time before that wears…" The hunter announced.

Our shaman was throwing mana totems, and he too was preparing to help the healing of the group; but even more so since our lone healer was a paladin and could use the Light to our advantage in the fight. He casted a simple consecration that the knight didn't like at all.

But it did, however, distract the Undead well. Having a paladin tank and supplemental damage was definitely gnawing on the knight's thin patience. The enemy casted a green, nasty looking spell that seemed to settle around our Dwarf paladin like a cloud of poison. Carefully I stepped away from it, minding the sickly look on the Dwarf's face as he stayed put and continued his attacks.

The knight braced himself, bringing his large sword back to deal a lethal blow to our tank when I took the opportunity to slice at his torso. It didn't draw blood, but he certainly noticed my presence now.

Somehow he had subdued the Dwarf, who now looked sickly _and_ frostbitten, even as his axe now frosted along its edges. And Zen…the knight must have shoved him aside for the moment, because the rogue was now recovering from a blow, his gloved hand wiping away a smear of blood near his lip.

For a moment I flashed back to when I was still training as a rogue with Aradar. When we were trying to corner a member of the Defias and Zen arrived to help. And I had been momentarily off my guard and suffered a good smack in the face for it.

Zen had noticed it the first time, and he must have known then that it would continue to be a weakness of mine.

I never enjoyed seeing Zen bleed, and at the moment I was distracted with concerns of how hurt he really was when the knight in front of me completely turned toward me. "Pathetic," he spat, his hand reaching out again and casting another deadly spell.

It felt like an Elek had pinned me against a saronite slab. Breathless, my body was thrown back as I helplessly waited for my landing.

And it came, of course. My spine jarred against the wall that had thus far been very good at catching everyone's falls. Immediately after impact I slumped over, my right arm the only thing keeping me off the ground as I tried to gasp for air.

The force had squeezed my lungs shut, and now they didn't want to breathe for me. Blinking in disbelief, I wrapped my left hand around my abdomen as I forced my lungs to expand. My first inhale was a gasp, followed by a curse because my ribs felt like they were on fire.

Damn.

Some of them were probably broken. And now it was a challenge just to breathe, and I still had a battle to fight.

I stood anyway, wincing the entire way onto my feet, until I managed to straighten my back and again try to approach the last enemy of the battle.

There was a flash of light; it looked like golden flakes as it fell around me and warmed my entire body. The Draenei nodded my way when the light had faded, and at least for now I could bear the pain.

The stupid knight picked the wrong rogue to dismiss. I sneaked back into the battle, noticing that now the tiger was on the knight, his claws and teeth raking for the Undead's feet and making him perform a near-comical foot shuffle.

I didn't even bother with my weapons, I had a better plan; with one preparatory hop I lifted my heavy boot and gave the Knight's back a good, harsh kick that throttled our death knight forward and put him to his knees.

His face landed nose-to nose with the tiger's snout, and now the feline roared loudly. At the same moment, the Dwarf paladin's axe came straight down, gouging the knight in his back and causing dark, coagulated blood to spurt from the Undead's back.

Finally, the caracass' body remained lifeless, lying in its own pool of blood as I relaxed my muscles.

"Thank the Light," the Draenei muttered under his breath in his thick accent.

The Dwarf lifted his hand, tracing the pattern Dennis had gifted me with before. Slurs of foreign chant rolled off his tongue, and finally he dislodged his weapon from the body.

I looked over to Zen, who now gazed fixedly at me, the right side of his face decorated with a number of small scratches that left smears of blood and a bruised cheekbone.

Our audience was still quiet, maybe due to the shock and disbelief of the entire event. I made a step toward Zen, but a blue light arriving from above us stopped me mid-step. Fear caused my stomach to lurch into my throat; I was convinced that I was seeing what was in my mind, that the Lich King had somehow forced himself into my thoughts and reality.

But the others were now stepping back, too, watching as the dark beams concentrated on the dead body in front of us and began to shimmer.

"What the hell," Zen muttered.

The Draenei paladin was furious. "By the Light, Dwarf, what kind of twisted prayer were you-"

"It was a simple prayer seal…"

"This wasn't part of my theoretical equation; my statistics weren't prepared for this kind of…" The Gnome warrior trailed off, his attention now focused on the corpse that was hovering above us all.

This…wasn't good.

Then the dead body lifted its head, eyes glowing. "My rotting flesh was just getting in the way…" it growled, hands balling into boney fists.

The skeleton of the knight now lowered to the ground, and in shock our group watched as he picked up his runeblade, the weapon glowing, too, at its owner's touch.

"What are you waiting for? Finish him!"

The Dwarf paladin gripped his axe furiously, his shoulders tense as he prepared to charge. "Does anythin' belongin' t' the Lich King _stay dead?_"

All of us must have made a move toward the body of bones, but his hand now went out in warning. "Not so fast!" he howled, throwing his spell into the earth below us.

More ghouls erupted from the dirt, their limbs breaking the surface as they climbed out to reveal rotten, torn flesh and distorted faces. This time, there were many; twenty or more, and all of them reaching for our group. One of the zombies clawed at the tiger in our group, but the feline was too quick, his paw eviscerating an already lifeless enemy's abdomen.

I was quickly outnumbered by three of them. They weren't difficult to take down, but the sheer number was keeping us away from our goal of killing the knight responsible. "Tick, tick, tick! Time is of the essence!" the Undead hissed.

The Dwarf paladin was short and stout, but his blasts of Light were locatable as he hollered toward the Gnome to attack the Undead death knight. "I've got these," he growled, throwing down another consecration.

I had managed to take two down, and the hunter had resorted to melee swings as he was flooded by a couple more ghouls. Even Zen couldn't shake them long enough to catch his breath. The shaman was casting chain heals and meanwhile trying to take the ghouls down.

"Boom!" the death knight cackled, even as he fought the little Gnome tank.

My dagger was moments away from killing my last target for good when the ghoul exploded into pieces, his limbs flying separate ways as blood, tissue, poison, and magic erupted from the body and spattered onto my armor and face.

Whatever magic had caused the blast had hit me in a wave, my skin on fire where it had contacted part of the ghoul's leftovers. It hurt worse where my old scar was, above my collarbone; almost as if I was reliving the turnover process.

I screamed, my eyes forced closed as the magic ate away at my skin. My gloves tried to scratch away at my neck and face, but it wouldn't quell the pain. Blood from the ghoul was now smeared everywhere on my body, and the magic seemed to burrow into my skin with every move.

"Stay put." The shaman threw a heal my way, the pain only subsiding enough that I could stay on my two feet. "Draenei, help the girl."

A bigger flash of Light poured over me, and it seemed to neutralize the burning, though the damage I had already endured still throbbed. But I opened my eyes, not bothering to rub the tears off my face. I was slathered in brown blood anyway.

The Draenei paladin went on to heal the rest of us, who also endured explosions from the enemies they couldn't kill soon enough. Zen was gritting his teeth, his body in a tremor as he fought the pain. Blood was now dripping from the right side of his face, the side that had already been injured.

Our hunter was busy healing his pet, the tiger pawing at his face and sneezing in an effort to help himself. Even though the Gnome warrior was valiantly tanking the knight very well, the enemy had noticed how vulnerable our hunter was. After a good parry toward our tank, the knight charged the hunter and landed a good slice into his side. The hunter, surprised, looked up, and now that I was able, I drew my daggers and moved to help the tank regain the knight. I swiped, landing a few good cuts along bones that oozed pearly liquid. When the knight was irritated enough, he attempted to swing his sword around me and land a blow to my chest—but I maneuvered around it and buried my dagger into the shoulder blade. The bone cracked, and when I twisted, it shattered and fell off of the skeleton.

Without a shoulder blade, the knight couldn't move his arm. The tank landed a few good blows into the ribcage, and I landed a stab into the spine. But the last blow came from the Dwarf, who had casted a dangerous seal of Light that caused the knight to fall over, motionless, a second time.

Argent crusade members were pulling the Night Elf away from danger, his tiger following behind and defensively watching for any more attacks. I cursed. One more person incapacitated in our little party. But at least the knight was down.

"Let's not count our blessings yet," the Draenei grumbled. Sure enough, the familiar blue light arrived yet again, bathing the dead enemy again. And again, he was resurrected; this time, a ghoul, blue and opaque, looked over us, his fingers flexing to show off the new talons he had procured. "I have no need for boness to bessst you!" he hissed, the blue color of his body intensifying.

We were all exhausted to our own bones. The only reason our paladins and others could continue so well was because of mana potions, totems, and heals. And this damn bag of bones wouldn't stay on the ground.

Now, it wasn't even a knight with death knight abilities. Now, as the tank swung his weapon, all the enemy could do was dodge and claw back.

Exhaustion was causing me to lose focus, and frustration had me gripping my blades so hard I felt my pulse rush through my palms.

The dark, hallowed holes where eyes once sat looked at me, a blue glowing arm reaching out for my figure. "I think you've been enough of a nuisance for now," he slithered. From his hand poured a mist-like spell that zoomed toward me and lingered around my body.

The feeling was familiar to being casted a fear spell. Impending doom. I took a step back, but I felt severely weakened and vulnerable.

Before charging me, the ghost casted another spell that tainted the ground around my comrades. The ground below each of them cracked and rotted, and dead limbs sprouted and reached for legs.

The sight was gruesome, as skeleton arms locked everyone into place and wouldn't budge. Bubbling ooze exploded from the ground, sputtering and hissing as it made contact with live body parts.

Now he did charge, ignoring the anchored tank and others. My mind wanted my body to move, but I couldn't, even my daggers were useless as an outstretched claw connected with my cheekbone.

I felt the claws rip into my skin, the pain immediate as blood slipped down my face. With a muffled scream I fell to the dirt, one arm pitifully attempting to catch my fall.

"Grace, move!"

The ghost was above me in a flash, his mass pushing past a couple of others.

"She can't, it's a death mark!"

My cheek felt ready to fall off, my body fatigued times ten after this mark. Lightheadedness had me simply laying there on my side, literally helpless to save myself. Suddenly, I was very aware of the breath in my lungs, and how the air moved in and out as my heart rate slowed.

The ghost drew his talons back once again, his body floating practically above me. _No_. He swooped, but I had managed to roll away unscathed. I wanted to holler—it hurt even to move—but my senses were damaged. My sense of pain seemed fully intact though; my joints felt like they were on fire. But at least I was alive for the moment. I was quite sure a splash of Argent heals would bring me back from death.

His body was a film, clouding the image of the ground with swirls of mystifying blue. My eyes were glued to the strange view until a familiar voice cut through the ghoul's howls. "Finish him off!" Zen was bloody. Everyone was bloody. I was tired.

My dagger was still in my hand, miraculously, and I had to use my entire reserve of willpower to not drop it. With a shaky hand I raised my weapon and drove it into the ghost of the knight's back. It screeched in agitation, claws again flailing to land a blow to my open chest as it tried to stand. Everyone else was unable to escape their ties, and the paladin was trying to throw protective auras and heals. I felt the warmth of Light, but it didn't seem to help at all.

The shaman was trying to cast a spell toward the knight. Zen was slicing at the mangled hands pinning him to his spot, but worry now covered his face.

"You will follow that Night Elf!"

His sharp hands came down again; this time, they sliced into my abdomen, my armor ripping uselessly like it was made of cloth. In shock, I looked down to see more of my own blood spilling from the pair of slice marks. No way…

My free hand lifted to cover the bleeding wound, my off-hand slackened on the only dagger I had left.

An object spun through the air, and it took me a couple of blinks to realize it was Zen's throwing weapon. It embedded into the shoulder of the ghost, who turned his head momentarily toward the distraction.

_Grace, your shot…_

My arm moved on its own, the dagger plummeting deep into a chest that once held a beating heart. I twisted, the rest of my strength leaving me as the knight finally sauntered back in surprise.

"Finally." The paladin tank threw a hammer of Light that exploded into starbursts as it contacted our enemy. "No! I must not fail…again…"

As soon as he was finished, I felt the seal lift. I could finally cry out in pain, my body slumping into the blood-stained ground. A curse stepped through my lips, and I couldn't even move to wipe the sheet of sweat off my forehead.

Zen made it to me first. He pulled me up gently by the shoulders, resting my head in his lap. "Hold on."

The Draenei arrived, already throwing heals my way. At least now they felt effective. Zen handed me a red potion, and even though it tasted bitter I drank it. I must have blacked out for a moment, because when I opened my eyes I was still lying there, Zen holding my hair out of my eyes. Once I was awake, he smiled. "Hi," I greeted softly.

Zen chuckled. "Can you stand?"

I took one breathe in and out, and then nodded. Zen helped pull me up, and once we were all standing together, a roar of applause erupted so loud I was nearly startled back to the ground.

"Hail the Alliance!"

I looked up, where Fordring, too, was clapping. A bright smile graced his face. Once the audience died down, Fordring could address the remaining six of us. "Congratulations, champions. Through trials both planned and unexpected, you have triumphed. Go now and rest; you've earned it."

Our king nodded in a sort of bow. "You fought well."

Exhaustively, I collected my daggers and we exited the arena with another round of claps. Once Zen helped me to our tent, he went to get some rags, bandages, and water to freshen us up with.

My injuries had been healed, though exhaustion hadn't left. While alone, I found myself motionless, unable to take off my armor. My thoughts of the battle…and of Dennis…held me in place.

"Grace?" I looked up as Zen entered; his body was in bad shape as well, though not as beaten as mine. His right cheek was bloodied, and a bruise had formed along his jaw line to accompany a collection of small scratches. He sat down across from me, setting down his fresh supplies. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just…thinking," I answered softly.

Zen looked me in the eyes, his hand resting on my knee. "You did great, Grace. Really."

"What did you see…in that nightmare?"

"What?"

"Paletress…she said even the good have dark moments. Everyone must have relived their worst moments. What did you see?"

Zen exhaled evenly, his shoulders suddenly very tense. "I was running. Escaping the village again. Leaving my parents behind." My heart ached, knowing I couldn't have helped Zen through those few moments, remembering how contorted his face had been. My hand covered Zen's own.

"I'm sorry."

"And yours?"

My lips tightened so I could keep them from trembling. "I was leaving Dennis behind again."

"Grace…" Zen said no more as he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me.

The images would never wane from my memories. Zen's arms couldn't protect me from my own thoughts, but he was here now to comfort me. Zen pulled back, his thumb tracing my battle scar on my face that I hoped would disappear within a few days. "You're the strongest female rogue I know."

"I'm the _only_ female rogue you know," I replied. A small smile formed on Zen's lips, and I found myself wanting to kiss Zen. He must have sensed my eagerness, because his aura shifted as his hand gently lowered to rest at the base of my neck, his fingertips softly grazing my skin and causing goose bumps.

"Am I interrupting…?"

Zen drew back, aura darkening as Taellor's face peered into our tent. "Taellor!" I announced, standing and giving him a hug that Zen probably wouldn't approve of.

"I just wanted to stop by and congratulate both of you," he said, pulling away to look me over. "Are you okay, Grace? You took some painful hits."

"I'm much better now. Thanks, Taellor."

"If you need anything, you know where to find me," the elf mentioned.

I smiled. "Of course."

Taellor's lips touched my unaffected cheek, the kiss cool against my skin as his hand rested on my arm. "Get some rest, Grace." As Taellor left, Zen sat down and fussed with the supplies, his aura so frazzled I could have boiled a stew on it. "Zen?"

"He does that to get me riled up," he growled. "He knows. And the worst part is he thinks he _won_. He made it into your heart first."

"Zen, Taellor's my friend."

"He would _prefer _something more."

"He kept me alive when I didn't have you."

"Didn't have me?" Zen repeated, now halting his process on the supplies to look accusingly at me. Immediately I regretted my word choice. "You _left_ me."

"I didn't know what else to do," I whispered. "I don't know what else I have to do to convince you. I wanted to be at your side, and _only _your side, ever since you trained me." I suppressed a chuckle of happiness at the thought. "Hell, ever since that stupid dress-up mission we had together!"

"Our first mission." Zen hid a smile as he remembered the crazy day. I sat back down across from him, wringing out a rag in the water basin before gently using it to pat the blood off of Zen's scathed cheek. The rogue's hand covered my own, his eyes drifting up and down my roughened figure. Finally his lips came in and met mine, the kiss so wonderful and comforting after being under such stress.

[end]

=]


	27. Bonus Chapter: Zen's Dilemma

_My bonus chapter awaits you!111!  
_

Clearly Zen won out on the votes for who you wanted a chapter about, and so here he is. I really tried to capture Zen's dilemmas, without making him look desperate. Zen is not desperate. Well, he doesn't like to act it, at least =]

I got slightly distracted when writing this. Don't judge me!

* * *

_Bonus Chapter_

_Zen's Dilemma_

_I'm so sorry._

Zen's eyes didn't even need to consciously read the hastily scrawled-out memo any longer. He had woken up eons earlier than the sun, and had immediately noticed the difference in the atmosphere.

It came to no surprise that her aura was absent. Zen knew her mind was made up when he had retired to bed. So he had conceded—closed the drapes and reminded himself that he no longer was concerned about her brazen decisions.

But even now as the sun began its descent, Zen struggled with setting the note back down on the dining table. I'm so sorry, it read. Sorry.

It took all of Zen's mental audacity to refrain from crumbling up the parchment. Or ripping the fragile, weak paper into tiny meaningless pieces. And then tossing the cursed SI:7 pin into the fireplace out of spite.

Sorry for what, exactly? For leaving Zen with a room full of things? Sorry for leaving Stormwind, then? Or leaving SI:7 against their orders? For being unable to write out a _real_ apology?

Was she apologizing for leaving him here to deal with the mess? Leaving Zen with the responsibilities and repercussions of what she decided?

She _should_ be sorry, Zen acknowledged. His eyes memorized the sloppy scribble of ink.

Grace was a full-fledged rogue now, thanks to Zen. Instead of her thankfulness, he gets to read those three mundane words over and over again. He had been foolish for believing in the word love. Zen tensed preparedly for the word. He did not want to love Grace. He didn't even _like_ her right now, not after all of _this_…

This could not be love. Now, only anger and resentment pounded in his chest. His fiery rage made it painful to breathe, and so Zen hunched forward and shuddered.

Grace was a rogue from the beginning. From the sly banter to the uncanny ability to stay hidden and detect. He had immediately admired her natural talent.

He wanted her immediately. For SI:7, of course. Zen took her in. Invited her into his SI:7. Taught her to fight like a rogue. To think and act like a rogue. Sacrificed for her. And this was his reward? I'm so sorry?

The male rogue had to clench his fist to refrain from striking the table. Zen was not himself lately. Lately, he had a harder time biting back his words. Had he resorted to nearly begging, groveling at Grace to get her to stay? _Threatened_ her, even, with SI:7 and duty?

He had. Zen glared accusingly at the SI:7 pin simply laying there, shimmering against the only firelight in the room. SI:7 couldn't keep her here. And Zen, himself, couldn't change her mind.

Zen exhaled carefully as his back straightened, and he struggled with tearing his eyes off the table. _So this is how it ends?_ he asked. Grace opens his eyes to happiness to allowing himself to relax and appreciate his life…then she turns into some super-avenger, a hardened assassin, and leaves him here alone to reconcile his feelings?

No.

The chair squealed, nearly flipping onto its back as Zen flew onto his feet with one swift motion. His shoulders ached from the poor night of sleep, and his eyes were heavy. No. This was _not_ how it ended. He would _not_ sit here, staring at this forsaken note while she destroyed herself.

Determination fueled the rogue as he stalked firmly to his door, wrenching the door open with one swoop. Zen would—

"Cole?"

The dark-haired male smiled, relaxing the fist of fingers meant to rap on Zen's door. "Good evening, Zen. Officer Jared said I would find you at home…"

Zen eyed Cole with mild suspicion as he slipped by and marveled at his friend's darkened room. "He did?" Zen prompted, turning around and forcing his door shut for the moment.

"…how did he put it…'sulking in the darkness?' I believe that was his word choice…"

Green eyes narrowed as Zen followed Cole over to the dining room table. "Jared told you I would be sulking?"

Cole merely shrugged, glancing quickly over the pin and apology note before again locking eyes on Zen. "So Grace is gone, then?"

The other rogue stiffened visibly. A hundred questions rolled through Zen's mind, such as how Cole had been informed of this so quickly, and if there were others that already knew. If news got out that Grace had left without SI:7's permission, her career—her _life_ could be in danger.

He could lie. Zen could lie very easily nowadays, thanks to his training. But it was Cole standing before him, eyes looking expectedly over his fellow rogue. Zen had always trusted Cole, and not just with Grace's training. He trusted Cole with their lives.

"She's gone."

Cole nodded knowingly, and then his hand held up a different piece of parchment. A heavy envelope, with the seal of SI:7. "Jared has assigned you a new mission. Wasn't that your request?"

The word mission was nearly foreign to Zen nowadays. The word used to excite him, but right now he only had one thing on his mind. Getting out of Stormwind. Somehow getting to Northrend.

"Cole, I can't…"

"I think you'll want this one."

Zen wasn't in the mood for Cole's antics, so with a slight growl he grabbed the envelope and ripped it open with his dagger. The parchment inside was unfolded once, then twice, and Zen could finally skim over the words of this mission.

He paused, eyes looking up to Cole as if to verify the words on the sheet. "This is a temporary transfer to Northrend."

"It is."

Zen continued to read. "Recruitment officer?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant?" Zen repeated, momentarily caught between reading the writing before him or looking into the eyes of his friend. "Cole…"

But it was all written there. And if this mission was Officer Jared's doing, then Zen knew that certainly this wasn't just about helping the war. It wasn't about Zen's transfer request. Jared was trying to help Zen; and, ultimately, Grace.

"You need to go to her, Zen."

His fingers tightened on the parchment, causing it to shudder under his touch. "She does _not_…need me any longer."

Cole wasn't obligated to comment on Zen's reproachful tone, and so he simply half-leaned against the single countertop in the dining area. Albeit his darker, earthy toned figure, Cole could be mistaken for Zen with the way he casually crossed his arms. "Even in the little time I've spent with her, I can tell you that's not true. She adores you."

"Tch." It was Zen's turn to fold his arms. Maybe he didn't want to go to Northrend, after all. Maybe it was better this way.

"She's only trying to protect you."

"And all of a sudden you're attuned to how Grace thinks and acts?" shot Zen. The poison in his tone was clearly not intended for Cole, but it surprised the man none-the-less. Zen _never_ raised his voice. Zen never let anything affect him. Except…

"She's changed you, Zen." Immediately his green eyes were narrowing as Zen's mind whirred for an appropriate, spiteful comment. But the other rogue didn't give him a chance. "For the better. You icy moron."

The corner of Zen's lip twitched with amusement. So Cole was going to resort to name-calling, then? "Use your _adept_ rogue skills, Cole. Grace left without a goodbye. She slipped away without being detected. If you wish to call me a moron for allowing her to be the insolent brat she is, then be my guest. But I will not be lead on…"

Zen stopped the words from falling from his lips, because he had said too much. Even now Cole was grinning, his eyes peeking at him. Before Zen could defend himself, though, Cole's demeanor had shifted into something more serious as he straightened himself out and glared at Zen from across the table. "Listen here, Zen. I've known you for too long to let you act like an idiot at such a monumental moment. You have excellent rogue skills. You're the most talented rogue I've ever worked beside." He paused a moment, allowing Zen to momentarily bask in the compliment. "But you are the _stupidest_ Human when it comes to your feelings."

The other rogue scoffed, though for a moment Zen was speechless.

"It's tearing you up inside, Zen. And how are you supposed to work properly for SI:7 if you're distracted?"

His green eyes concentrated on Cole, who allowed his question to linger in the darkness of the room. A valid point from the other rogue. And Zen _did_ want to confront Grace about this whole fiasco…wasn't he planning just a second ago to leave for Northrend anyway?

"Fine. I'll accept."

"Good." With a flick of his wrist, Cole intercepted the SI:7 pin that had been neglected on the wooden table and tossed it to the other rogue. Zen caught it with ease, though as he gazed at the golden star in his palm, he felt the urge to let it fall discarded to the floor. He pocketed it instead, opting to avoid looking at it any longer. "You're to be briefed at Jared's office at sunrise. From there, your travel arrangements will be made." With a single nod Zen acknowledged the instructions, his gaze following Cole as he walked to the door. "And tell Grace I said hello, will you?"

"Tch."

With a wink Cole was gone, the door clicking shut and allowing Zen to absorb everything. Everything that he had to deal with.

It only lasted a moment. Zen blocked the thoughts of Grace, and Northrend, and the what-ifs, and instead stalked into his bedroom, where the curtains were already drawn to prevent the light from hitting his bed.

He had avoided the pressure in his chest for quite some time. Jared gave him the mission details, the travel plans, and sent him off with a cavalry of soldiers Stormwind was sending to Northrend. He loaded onto the boat, after the three days of ignoring all of his problems, and even managed to settle down below deck.

But the boat rocked forward, signifying the beginning of his voyage, and Zen's stomach lurched. His chest was pounding erratically, and for some reason he couldn't tell his lungs to breathe evenly.

It was still anger that drove Zen to sit there, curling up his fists and setting them there where his firmly pressed lips were to prevent a growl. Anger, and yet somehow things felt different. His heart _hurt_, if that was possible. Anxiety? Now that he was finally leaving? Leaving for her…

A snarl peered out of the corner of his lips. He couldn't get accustomed to this. To the urge to protect her…

Zen's hand had at some point drifted downward to claw at his chest. Briefly Zen recalled when it had been Grace, shaking him in an effort to get him to understand. Her hand over his heart that was surely beating too rapidly… "You're human," Grace had berated. "_This_," she tapped his heart, "still belongs to you. That's something the Scourge can't fathom. Something you shouldn't consider a burden but a gift."

His chest fluttered at the thought of Grace's touch. _What is wrong with me._

He had opened up to her, hadn't he? Hence the groveling and begging for her to stay with him… And now he would follow her? Like a lost puppy into Northrend?

Zen needed answers. He needed to figure out this thing called Love. Because all he currently felt was pain…and a heart that wouldn't stop pounding.

He would go to her. He would do his duty as a rogue, and meanwhile figure Grace out. Of course he would protect her. If he could keep an eye on her, perhaps the hurting would stop…

Zen would go to Northrend. And then he would see if Grace really meant those three words, scrawled out recklessly on that paper.

_I'm so sorry._

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reads, and to the reviews that always make me laugh and smile! Zen has too many supporters, Grace is going to have to start batting them away! =P


	28. Icecrown

****Grace's epic journey is almost over =] And I'm currently working on a second part, too!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Book Fourteen, Part One**

**Icecrown**

Eventually we finished cleaning off the blood and dirt. With the muck off of my face a felt a little better.

We had two days to rest until our final trial, although those undergoing it wouldn't officially know until the day of. I said if I wasn't chosen to continue, I would go to Fordring himself and demand I do. The next day, Zen and I felt much rested, and Zen insisted that we watch the other trials. "Why?" I asked. "None of them are going to have as tough of a challenge as we did."

"Cole would like some company in the stands."

"Cole?" I repeated, turning my attention from my belt and looking over quizzically. "But Cole has R-"

"Robert was initiated right before they came. He's going to battle today."

"What?" I now stood. "But Robert is still learning…and without Cole to help?"

"Cole tried to convince him not to come. But the boy is stubborn." I muttered an agreement under my breath. "Cole can only watch now."

"And pray," I grumbled.

We met Cole at the main entrance. The dark haired rogue grinned cheerfully, arms out as he hugged me in greeting. It wasn't quite the welcoming I was expecting, considering what had happened at our last meeting. But Cole hugged me anyway, and then gave Zen a firm handshake. I always thought Zen and Cole were a perfect balance. Light and dark, stoic and relaxed. They balanced each other out nicely, and even now I could sense how attuned to each other they were. "A great performance yesterday, as always, Zen," he commented. "And Grace, that form needs work! But a nice shot!"

I smiled. "Thanks, Cole."

Cole led us to our seats, the arena looking much smaller from up in the stands. I could see Taellor's silvery hair as he sat in front of us, his figure protectively hovering near Fordring.

"Robert's the next match."

Cole was anxious. He sat on the edge of his seat, hands on his knees until the gates opened. Then as the contenders arrived, he leaned back with tensed shoulders.

I wasn't sure if I could watch. Robert was a good rogue—and apparently, a decent jouster—but he wasn't experienced enough…

This group wasn't melding well. Robert was still his usual hard-headed self, and he had become somewhat the leader of the group. Another Human—the tank—looked to Robert for assistance in controlling the Champions of the Horde.

Of course they had the warrior tank to deal with, and the shaman; but instead of Visceri, the ten had a mage to battle. It was disorganized, and all I could focus on was Robert as he helped against the Skullcrusher.

Their tank was a warrior as well and when put up against Makra he was no match. Robert was a nuisance and a bigger threat to him, and I knew it was only a matter of time; then he slashed the Orc's torso, and it was the last straw for the Horde enemy. The Orc swung around and Robert attempted to jump out of the way, but the axe was too quick. Blood spurted from Robert's abdomen as the entire audience seemed to gasp with me. For a moment I was reminded of my own wounds on the field, and nausea wanted to take over.

Robert's was a deeper wound. Immediately he fell to the floor, dagger slipping out of his hand as his body skidded into a puff of dirt.

The blood seemed to drain from his face, now pale white, and seep onto the battle's floor. He wasn't bubbled yet, and now I was growing anxious. Somehow I had ended up standing, my hands clenched. "Help him!" I called, but no one would hear me over the roars of the crowd around me.

Robert wasn't protected until he completely lost consciousness, his face ghostly white as the medics rushed down and lifted him out of his own pool of blood, carrying him away as the battle rumbled on.

My fist pounded the railing. "Where are they taking him?" I asked, turning to Zen.

"Probably where Cole's heading. The medic tent."

Cole? Sure enough, Cole was already descending the stairs with a familiar, tense gait. "He doesn't look good," I muttered, taking a couple sidesteps toward the nearest exit aisle. Zen's hand grabbed my own.

"You're following him?"

"Robert is near death, and I know Cole cares a lot about him. They're like our family," I explained.

Zen looked out toward the continuing battle for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."

We filed out of the arena and caught up with Cole as he was entering the tent set aside for the wounded. Cole found Robert immediately, the medics of the Crusade was looking over him and healing the wound as quickly as possible. At some point Robert had come to—he was given a handful of medications and potions. Once they got him stabilized, a priest approached us. "He should be fine. He's just lethargic from the blood loss. The potions will help him with the shock in little time."

"Thank you." Cole sidled past the healer and approached Robert's cot, and I realized I had been wringing my hands in nervousness until getting the good news. "Are you feeling okay?" Cole asked in a low voice.

"I'm furious," Robert growled. "My tank wasn't aggressive enough, and no one else was being a leader, either-"

"You did your best," Cole said. "You did well."

"I should have done better." Robert looked away, dark circles under his eyes more prominent as his jaw clenched. "I let you down."

Zen and I watched from behind Cole as his hand covered Robert's cheek, aura calm and collected and yet warmer than usual. "You did not. I'm just glad you're alive."

Clearly the touch was a surprise to Robert, his pale face now looking like it had seen a ghost. Cole's hand fell to the rogue's shoulder and gave it an assuring squeeze. "You need your rest now."

Robert nodded, but before he dismissed Cole, his hand cross over his chest to grip Cole's. "Thank you," he murmured.

With an absent minded nod Cole remained there a moment, maybe turning a multitude of thoughts over in his head. Finally Cole exhaled loudly, his hand squeezing Robert's shoulder once more before he stood and left the tent. Before taking my own leave I gave Robert two thumbs up and a wink. He rolled his eyes, but it couldn't hide the blush now creeping across his cheekbones.

Zen was talking to Cole outside. "…I just feel like I still need to protect him," Cole explained. "I was actually _worried_."

"Everything's okay now, he's going to be fine."

"Yes I know, it's just…well, things aren't 'fine' anymore. This is war. It's real. And the thought of losing Robert…"

"One day at a time, Cole," Zen insisted as he patted his friend on the shoulder. "A wise friend of mine once showed me the importance of bonds and relationships. Sometimes people…become part of you." Zen was looking over the horizon now, probably to avoid anyone's gaze, and I suddenly felt lost in his eyes. "You followed Robert here because you care. And he needs your support. Bonds make you stronger."  
Cole's lips were still tightened with worry, but now he seemed to smile with a realization I didn't yet have. "Wise words, indeed, coming from an icy moron like you."

The light-haired rogue chuckled now as he swiftly clutched Cole's neck with a strong arm, causing him to stagger forward. "I'll let that go, since you're clearly distraught and exhausted." Zen let go of his counterpart, gaining a low chuckle in response. "Now go get some rest before I change my mind and challenge you to a duel to the death."

Cole nodded, a smile of true relief on his face. "Thanks Zen. For the support. You're the brother I never had."

I wouldn't tell Zen I told you so. Zen and I retreated silently to our tent for a more quiet evening.

The next day was our final fight. The invitation to compete was on a message board near the entrance, and Zen and I both had our names decorating the paper in fancy scrawl. "How could we _not_ move on to the trial," I grumbled as Zen and I walked back across the grounds. "We dealt with that bloody bonus round. In fact," I stated firmly. "We should have been automatically entered into the group to raid!" I stopped, noticing how Zen's attention wasn't on my words. "Zen?"

The male rogue turned, hands in his pockets as he calmly looked over to my displeased face. "Yes?"

"You weren't listening. Usually that means something's bothering you."

"I'm just…preparing myself. Mentally, at least."

"Zen…how long have I been around you."

He paused, looking me over with a calm, purposeful look. "It's just really close. _Real_ and close. Grace, if you would rather stay where it's safe in Stormwind…"

"I can't. You know that." I stepped in closer. "I know you're worried. But I won't let you go without me. We'll do this together, no matter how it ends. I was born to defend Stormwind."

Zen sighed. "I knew it was useless. Come on. Let's go get ready."

It turned out Zen and I were separated into different groups this time. And I was first; in no time I was in the usual position behind the thick iron gate, my heart pounding into my ribs like a hammer on nail. The match started after little pause to think, and with twenty four other people, it was easy for me to avoid too much conflict.

The beasts of Northrend were first, which really translated to _whatever terrible things the Argent Crusade could round up for this match._ The first round wasn't too bad once I minded the spikes, but the worm-like, snake-like things we battled next were actually frightening.

Not only were Acidmaw and Dreadscale large, with serpentine looks and scales with razor sharp edges; but the two beasts were extremely quick and cunning. Poison shot from their mouths, and their tails could whip around far too quick if you're preoccupied conjuring a cast.

I barely dodged one of these very same tail swipes, the movement causing a loud _whoosh_ as I stepped back. Once everyone was far enough away from the worm, it inhaled with a hiss and spat; green ichor shot from its mouth and hit another rogue—a Night Elf female—dead-on.

With a small curse I watched as the poor elf remained frozen in place. At first I thought she had been too fearful to move. But the poison had been absorbed into her skin, and as the other worm now hurled a molten fireball her way, I realized the poison was a paralytic.

I made it to her right on time, my frame smaller but able to tackle her far enough away to dodge the deadly attack. The flames burst as they hit the ground, charring the dirt and heating my feet as I tried to stand.

Eventually the paralytic poison wore off. Besides the venom attacks, the fight wasn't too bad. I stayed on my feet for the next two enemies. Some had fallen, of course—our twenty five man team had been reduced to probably eighteen or nineteen. And the Horde crusaders—a surprise to us all—were easily mowed down. It was the Twin Val'ky that really whittled away our numbers.

This was because the twins—who had been caught by Paletress after they tried ruining the entire tournament—had to be logically approached. We had lost two melee before we caught on to the game. At the time I had sustained mild injuries—many bruises and even a few cuts. My shirt had been seared by a Blood Elf mage earlier, my skin hot and itchy as it battled the burn's effects.

The portals had marked us. We had unknowingly picked our poison; but it didn't take too much effort to realize those attuned to Lightbane's golden aura were severely damaged by the dark sister's power.

The bluish-black aura of Darkbane felt smothering as it blanketed me—it must have had very dark properties if it could change my mood to weary and saturnine.

But I attacked the Light, and embraced the dark. It was the strategy needed to win. Once we had figured out the method, it was easy to burn the pair down—save for my scorched skin down my right arm that now pounded with heated pain.

Of course Fordring congratulated us again, his sense of pride lingering as he dismissed the ten of us that had survived. The final group would be chosen within days, after everyone else had finished their fights. And I couldn't fathom at all how Fordring _couldn't_ select Zen and me.

Zen greeted me as I made it outside of the arena, his rogue-like demeanor easily seen through after all of my training with him. He looked me over with a keen eye. "You fought well."

"The first battle was harder. On my body, at least," I admitted. My helmet I had torn off immediately after the match—now my sweaty forehead grew chilled in the Northrend wind. My hair was now attractively matted against my scalp.

"It'll only get worse."

I sighed, though perhaps it was only out of habit. Zen was protective, and of course he would convince me not to fight, if he _could_. But we both knew of war. Of costs. "If you go, I go," I stated. "I have to be there."

Zen said no more. Once we reached the tent, I washed myself up a bit, admiring my new battle wounds and using my burn cream on my arm.

_It'll only get worse._ Zen's words were repeating over and over in my head. It'll only be harder. I could admit to myself that I most definitely was _not _the best rogue for the job. After all, how long had I been a rogue now? Surely there were others that were better soldiers; more skilled. Maybe I was just crazy enough to go.

I found myself lost in thought; my body freshened as I held my golden ring and its chain in my hands. Somehow I had frozen, gotten lost in thought as my jewelry remained suspended in my line of sight.

Was it luck that had gotten me though this, then? Was I merely slipping through cracks of fortune…

Or was it Fate, who had a twisted method of bearing its presence in life. I had been bitten. I had a connection to the Lich King. I had been a very fine thread in the tapestry of the Lich King's war.

No. The gold of the ring Lucas and Dennis had given me for my eighteenth birthday reflected in the small lantern light and casted beams across the tent. I worked for this moment. I had trained and fought and put onto my shoulders the responsibilities. It had torn my heart into shreds; I had abandoned those I loved. I had to pick myself back up and fight harder. I chose this. I would avenge the fallen.

I had managed to make it through my own trial, but now I had to sit through Zen's. His was the final group to go, and of course by then I couldn't stop wringing my hands in anxiousness. Images of Robert's bleeding torso flashed through my memory, making me shake my head violently. Zen was the best. His skill would keep him alive.

Prior to the fight beginning, Taellor found me in the stands and greeted me. It took a lot to convince Taellor I would be okay watching the fight, but he eventually sighed knowingly and returned to his seat after giving me a pat on the shoulder.

The trial's usual commencement began as Fordring held his gloved hand up to quiet the crowd.

Twenty five people on the battlefield, and I could only focus on one of them. Zen's attacks were always pinpointed and lethal. I didn't want to watch—but it hurt more _not_ to. Zen got knocked back by a Northrend beast, his shoulder smashing into the wall, nearly making me gasp.

At least he could fight. In fact, Zen made it through the remaining fights, despite being limited by a crushed shoulder.

My head was starting to throb, and angrily I rubbed my temple. It must have been the stress of watching Zen fight; and now that it was over, I wanted the ache gone.

Fordring stood as the applause erupted, causing me to flinch in pain. Once the clapping died down, Fordring looked down upon the fighters. "A mighty blow has been dealt to the Lich King! You have proven yourselves able bodied champions of the Argent Crusade. Together we will strike at Icecrown and destroy what remains of the Scourge! There is no challenge that we cannot face _united_!"

"You will have your challenge, Fordring."

Suddenly, there was chilling silence across the entirety of the grounds as my vision blurred and darkened momentarily. I recognized the voice immediately, from my visions—and I realized where my headache had originated from.

Then the Lich King appeared, his figure illuminating an evil aura I had already experienced before. Blue, electric light surrounded his body as his blackened armor contrasted against the gray sky. I shivered, my body suddenly aching all over as I leaned forward and clutched the stone ledge.

"Arthas!" I heard Fordring yell, and without doubt I knew Fordring could easily hate this being, despite his title of paladin. "You are hopelessly outnumbered! Lay down Frostmourne and I will grant you a just death!"

Just. My body felt heated in anger as I let the word linger in my head. There was no true form of justice with the Lich King.

The Lich King's caustic laugh echoed through the coliseum, causing my bones to numb. "The Nerubians built an empire beneath the frozen wastes of Northrend. An empire that you foolishly built your structures upon. _My empire._"

I had trouble breathing as the air thickened with a dark magic, the feeling making me nauseous as I forced myself to look upon Arthas. His body was swirling in blues and purples, the energies seemingly absorbed by his being. But I couldn't lose consciousness now, not with him right _there_. It would be the end of me.

"The souls of your fallen champions will be mine, Fordring."

Before Fordring could even think of an attack on the Lich King, however, he had vanished, though he had left me with a splitting headache that nearly had me nearly sitting back down to gather myself. I would have, that is, until I realized that the splintering sound ringing in my ears wasn't inside my pounding head, but below me instead.

It was as if hell had opened up from below us on the battlefield; the ground crumbled and was swallowed by a gaping black hole. The entire foundation of the coliseum shook and split, and within two blinks of my eyes the entire bottom floor of the arena was gone; it took the champions with it.

The crunching of stone supports muffled my cry of shock as I realized Zen had fallen victim to the Lich King's new plot. Panicked, I leaned forward and even attempted to yell Zen's name—but the rubble had formed a massive dust cloud that was rising into the stands; it blanketed my vision and impeded my breathing.

I coughed loudly, my eyes now stinging as I paused to gather myself. Time wasn't on my side, though—the stands began to splinter and crumble inward, swayed by the black hole.

"Everyone please exit slowly! Do not panic!"

But it was panic. Hollers were erupting around me, and screams of pain and fright stung my ears.

Tears had arrived from my eyes, the hot liquid leaving tracks where gravel had covered my face. Whether they were from the irritating dust or my panicked state was unknown. But at least the tears helped me see. I back pedaled one step, trying not to get trampled on by the others who were exiting.

The first few rows had collapsed, some parts skidding into the deep hole before us. I was pushed and shoved up two more rows until our mass of people found the exit. I was carried by the panicking group who mercilessly pulled me down the ramps and stairways.

Finally I was out, and when I was far enough away from the crowds, I collapsed.

My whole body was saturated with the gray and brown dust. At first I only breathed—my throat still burned and felt dry, but at least I wasn't in the midst of the problem. And then I remembered Zen.

My female instincts assumed the worst. He's dead. The earth opened up, and Light knows where it led to or how far he fell…

But I had excellent rogue skills. And rare detecting skills. I still felt his aura. He wasn't dead. Not yet.

My hands were shaky as I pulled myself up, mindlessly dusting myself off as I turned toward the caving-in arena. There were some things SI:7 didn't train you for.

There were Argent members keeping the curious back, shouting announcements and warnings. "Fordring is trying his best to sort out the situation, but for your safety keep back!"

I couldn't guess how long I stood there, caked in dust and tears as the soldiers kept guard of the dilapidated building. I wasn't sure what to expect or look forward to—but if Zen had died…

I waited and waited. The building continued to smolder and crack, the ashen residue still bellowing from the death pit as some tried to bring order to the chaos.

I could tell news had developed—words were spreading to the dozens of soldiers of the Crusade that were guarding the failing structure. Indignantly I strutted up to a Human Argent crusader, now trying to calm the others that gathered around in confusion.

"What happ-"

Zen's aura suddenly faded from my senses, the absence so blatant I stopped mid-thought in my shock. Goosebumps covered my body, the shivering feeling unfettering as I fought to breathe. "Please," I asked, my voice barely passing from my lips. "Are they dead? What happened?"

"All I've heard is the Lich King ignited a battle between our crusaders and his Undead beast, Anub'arak. There were….some survivors. Fordring offered them a portal to-"

My legs crashed into the hardened, crisp ground. Some survived. Meaning most were gone. This wasn't supposed to end like this. Without Zen…

The only future I had ever imagined was with Zen.

I couldn't see anymore. Tears had flooded my vision, the dirt irritating my eyes and rendering me momentarily blind. I was shaking so much I couldn't focus on anything but breathing. I had lost everything, and now I had nothing to lose. Bitterly I wiped dirty tears from my streaked face, my feelings caught between anger and sorrow.

What was there to do? I considered stumbling to Taellor—wherever he was—but then I thought of the future, and going home without Lucas and trying to explain that to my mother.

How could I even think about myself right now when Zen was _dead_. Gone for good. I never said goodbye and I never got a chance to say—

Chills arrived across the nape of my neck as my senses picked up his familiar aura. But it was barely there, so small I could have been imagining it.

I stood up anyway, the strain causing a rumbling cough out of my lungs. But if Zen was alive I could cough up a whole lung without caring.

Cautiously I moved toward the aura, my mind still numbed by the thought of losing Zen. I turned the corner, where a burst of wind greeted me and tossed my hair back, but nothing could distract me from Zen's figure.

He was holding the side of his abdomen, the crimson liquid spilling over his hand and his armor. The blood had drained from his face, and some was trickling from his busted lip. He grimaced, face twisting in pain as he tried taking a step forward. "Zen!" I hollered, my own pace quickening into a run. My feeling of relief twisted into worry as I reached out just in time to catch Zen's stumbling body. "By the Light," I muttered, Zen's weight causing me to stagger back as well. We both fell to our knees, Zen's bloody hand catching his balance in the muddy ground. "Zen," I breathed. "What…how did you..?" His other hand opened, palm up, to reveal a hearthstone. "But Fordring had a portal…"  
"To Dalaran. Portals are for the weak," Zen grumbled, his head unable to lift. "I hearthed instead."

"You're bleeding out, the hearth could have _killed_ you!" I berated with a low growl.

Zen looked up, mustering his strength for a good breath. "I had to get back to you."

I bit my lip to keep from getting terribly emotional. "Zen." His body lolled a bit in my arms, his own hand dropping to his side uselessly. "We have to get you to the medical tent," I instructed. He nodded, though I doubted he fully understood. With all of my strength I could manage I tried hoisting his flaccid body onto his feet. I succeeded—kind of. Zen's body slopped onto its feet, his weight on my own smaller frame. "Work with me here, Zen," I growled; but his arms hanged languidly at his sides and he muttered something that sounded something like "buttered flowers."

I successfully walked (or dragged, rather) Zen's body four steps before we stumbled, the strain causing my back to jolt with pain. "Damn it," I cursed loudly. "Zen, come on, stay awake," I urged, giving him a rather violent shake. "You're going to die if we don't get there."

Panic was causing my throat to dry as I ungracefully tried pulling Zen up again. Despite the shooting sensation in my back, I kept him on his feet. "Come _on_," I begged.

"Grace!"

In surprise I turned to see Taellor jogging toward me, his skin powdered with grit just like mine. "He hearthed, and his side…"

"Okay, here…" Taellor's considerably larger frame sidled onto Zen's other side, his arms gripping Zen as most of the weight lifted from my back. "Keep pressure on that gash, Grace."

I nodded, pulling my outer cloak's material around to push it against the bloody mess along the side of his torso, and together the three of us paced toward the medical tent. When we arrived Zen was immediately intercepted, his unconscious body laid on a cot as healers swarmed him, casting heals and spreading ointments over his wounds.

I watched numbly, frozen in place until Taellor's hand patted my shoulder. "He'll be fine."

"I know," I squeaked. "I'm just…I'm still recovering. I don't think I'll get used to…the thought of death."

"You're only Human, Grace."

I smirked at the statement. "I suppose only Humans fear death then, Night Elf?"

Taellor perked at my quirky name-calling I usually didn't resort to. "I suppose that's not fully correct."

I nodded absent mindedly, watching the bustle before me with discerning eyes. "He survived a malicious attack plotted by the Lich King, and hearths _knowing_ he's on the edge of death."

"He couldn't leave you here."

Grimacing, I recalled one of Zen's only statements. _I had to get back to you. _"Well, he's lost his mind then."

"I think he's just fine."

"You and Zen hate each other."

Taellor chuckled with a shake of his head. "Hate is a strong emotion. Zen and I…have much in common."

"Thank you," I said. "For coming to our rescue."

The elf's strong arm pulled me in affectionately to give me a sort of half-hug. Finally the action surrounding Zen had settled down. The nasty gash was closed with the Light's power, though blood, now dry, still painted his body. After a medic allowed us to approach Zen I gathered a wet cloth and gently wiped Zen's chin, neck, and forehead.

"Are you going to be okay here for a bit?" Taellor asked softly. "Fordring probably needs my…"

"Of course, Taellor," I answered with a small smile. "You've already helped. So much."

"You can call us even. You've saved me twice. I've saved you and Zen each."

"Yeah, well I don't think you've factored in the notion that _I _was the reason you fell off a cliff into the coma in the first place," I grumbled.

"Eh, I can look over that," Taellor dismissed with a twinkling eye. "For now."

"You never cease to amuse me, Taellor."

"You have to laugh a little in order to survive out here. Hang in there, Grace."

Taellor slipped out silently, leaving me to mull over Zen's battered appearance. His shirt had been cut away dismissively, his armor tossed aside to expose his injuries. Now a blanket draped over Zen's motionless but recuperating body, his set shoulders peeking out of the linens. Slowly I drew back the blanket and gently patted away some of the splotches of blood along his abdominal muscles. Surprised, I noted that the medics had removed _all _of the rogue's clothing—Zen's chiseled muscles ended at the edge of the blanket, and for a brief moment I gazed in shock; then with a vivid blush I pulled the sheet back over his stomach.

I didn't have to wait too long for Zen to awaken—his first noise was a groggy moan, his arm coming up to rub his eyes in confusion. Once he finally came completely around he tried sitting up.

My arm easily batted him back down. "Zen," I berated quietly. "You'll rip open your wound."

He looked me over a moment, perhaps to recall how we had gotten there, and then exhaled. "We were attacked. The floor…"

"The building collapsed."

Zen tried shooting up again, but I managed to again keep him down. "Are you okay?"

I blinked. "Zen, I'm _fine_. The worst part was thinking you were…dead."

Zen's hand lifted with difficulty as it stroked my cheek. "I'm not dead. Not yet." I nodded with a slight smile as his hand dropped due to weakness. "Your face…is dusty?"

"It's stone dust. From the collapse."

"Well, are you hurt? It-"

"Zen, you got here in a bloody puddle and you're worried _I _got hurt?"

"I survived. I only made it here because of you."

"Not completely true. Taellor helped me drag you into the medic tent."

Zen nodded quietly in thought, a small shrug wrinkling his blankets. "I suppose a thank-you is in order."

"I thought you were dead. I thought everything was over for me."

Zen's hand found my own. "Let's not think about that. I'm just…I'm thankful to be here."

I wanted to point out that avoiding our daily life-or-death predicaments didn't make them disappear, but Zen was recovering and needed stress-free relaxation. So I held his hand and urged him to close his eyes and rest instead.

As I sat there and watched Zen rest, it took every drop of strength I had not to dwell on what laid ahead for my future. And the chaos it took to get here. I managed to eventually fall asleep huddled over Zen's bed, and when I awoke my back was rightfully sore. I spent my time wisely, sharpening my blades, sharpening Zen's blades. Not surprisingly, three days flies by when Death is whispering down your collar.

Zen recovered quickly. In three days he was healthy again, and we were preparing for the fight of our life.

We would leave from the tournament grounds, though others were stuck in Dalaran and would meet us there. The night before we were due to leave, I tracked Taellor down with my rogue skills, to where his own tent (conveniently near Fordring's) stood. I slipped into his tent quietly, minding the cot and lantern before Taellor's curious face looked me over. "Grace," he stated, his arm dropping his glimmering dagger onto his cot. "What a surprise."

My eyebrows furrowed. "I know you can sense me from fifty paces away."

Taellor shrugged his masculine shoulders. "Surprise in the sense I didn't expect a visit. Not that I didn't feel it once you were on your way."

I smiled. "I came to say goodbye. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? I didn't realize…"

"The raid on the citadel," I explained, knowing full well Taellor knew exactly where I was going. "You know…Lich King…frozen throne…big sword…"

"I've heard of it, yes…"

I giggled, causing Taellor to smirk in return. "Grace," Taellor's tone got serious, "it's not going to be easy. Arthas was a powerful Human, and now that he's part of the Lich King-"

"I know…"

"Many won't make it out alive. And the raid may not even succeed."

"Zen's already tried intimidating me, Taellor. I have to go. Everything in my life…"

"Zen just wants you to live a long, happy life, Grace. But he also knows you're a rogue. A very gifted and talented one. He knows you'll go. He can't stop you. But he sure as hell will do anything in his power to be sure you stay alive."

Taellor's eyes drifted downward as the lantern light casted deep shadows around his cat-like eyes. "Taellor, you deserve happiness, too," I whispered.

His touch created sparks that prickled up my arm as his hand held my own; when Taellor's other hand cupped my cheek, the hair on my neck stood on end.

"As long as you return safely, Grace…"

My heart thudded in my chest. "I can only try, Taellor."

One soft, gently kiss graced my forehead, so light I nearly didn't feel it. Then the Night Elf stepped back and landed a brotherly pat on my shoulder. "Go get some rest, Grace. It's a big day tomorrow."

I fought back the urge to cry. My arms reached toward Taellor again, embracing him one last time before leaving. His arms wrapped around me securely, the way they always would. Protectively.

"Thanks Taellor. I love you."

"I love you. Even though sometimes you're a bit irrational and quick to temper and-"

"You're ruining it."

Taelllor's deep chuckle rumbled against my ear. "Just don't die, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, smiling as I pulled away. "Night, Taellor."

"Goodbye, Grace. Go with honor…or something like that."

I laughed, finally shaking my head and heading out of the tent with a smile on my face. Taellor would always be in my heart, his guardianship and protectiveness the one thing that kept me moving when I was at my worst. Like another brother in my life.

I couldn't focus on much of anything. One moment I was fearless, mind reinforced like steel. And then I made it to where my destiny would soon play out. My head felt cloudy as I gazed at the mountainous structure.

"How are we going to slip in unnoticed?" I asked Zen carefully. The wings of our griffin beat loudly within the wind's grasp, the speed causing my cheeks to burn with the chill. Before us, the ominous silhouette of the Lich King's citadel. Some of the others chosen to join the Crusade followed alongside us.

"The Ashen Verdict has handled that. Mograine had managed to set up a sort of base in Icecrown Citadel."

"Mograine?" I repeated. "Meaning my brother…"

"Yes, the Death Knights have been defending and setting up the site."  
I exhaled uselessly, my arms around Zen tightening as we drew in closer and closer. We slipped in without causing a stir, into a crevice where the Death Knights and Mograine awaited.

It was supposed to be the champions. The best of the best from the tournament—both Horde and Alliance-joining together. But the tournament hadn't had much success in uniting us with the Horde. And now, they were nowhere to be found. I wanted to be optimistic and imagine we would run into them. They were coming from Dalaran—we needed to stand united against our enemy. But the logistical side of me…

Fordring had been in Dalaran as well, gathering the Horde to join us. Right now, he was nowhere to be found. Mograine's expression as he approached us wasn't comforting, either.

"The Horde?" Zen asked; we dismounted quickly, the feeling of solid ground causing me to stir on my feet.

"They've entered against my advice."

The rest of our Alliance champions were settling in now, and chatter erupted at the news.

"How long ago?" one of our bulky Human tanks asked.

"It's been long enough. I warned them to hold…they could be wiped out by now."

"And Fordring?" asked Zen.

"Hasn't arrived yet. The Horde must have bypassed him."

"They'll turn against us!" shouted another champion. "Become minions of the Lich King for us to slaughter!"

"_They already have_! Undead or not, they are enemies!"

Others rattled off agreements. "Let's go then!" a Draenei boomed. "Those _wet eleks_ think they've outdone the Alliance! We will show them our wrath!"

My face suddenly felt extremely hot as I listened on. "No!" I roared. "We are _forgetting_ who the _enemy_ is here! We have to work together!"

"And have the Horde expressed that same desire when they push forward alone?" another hissed.

"No, b-" I stopped, irritated. "We need their help!"

"We need no one!" the Human boomed, sending an echo throughout our little cave. Now there was a huge audience—Darion's Death Knights had now gathered to view the uprising. "As your tank, I say we _push forward!_" The warrior tank held up his sword in a display of power. Others cheered—I grimaced.

"For the Alliance!"

"Grace-" I had made a step toward the archway, where the others were preparing to battle, when a hand gripped my arm. I turned quickly at the cold contact, my nerves calming when I realized it was my brother.

"Lucas," I breathed.

"It's suicide going in there without aid…"

I looked down, afraid of my brother's discerning stare. "I have to. For the other lives lost."

"You'll lose your own."

"Lucas, this is our one shot."

He paused, watching as Zen approached my right side. "This is Zen," my brother stated.

Zen nodded. "Lucas, pleasure to finally meet you…"

"You'll protect her."

It was a statement, not a question. I couldn't determine if Lucas' attitude rooted from being a Death Knight or a possessive brother.

"With my life."

I looked at Lucas, who nodded in surrender. "Be careful." I hugged my brother tightly, shooing away thoughts of the times we'd had together alive. Of the fleeting moments…

My head was pounding, and the urge to break down and cry wasn't helping. "Grace, it's not too late…"

"I'm going," I growled, pulling away.

_Let them come. Let them gaze upon the cause of all of their fears!_

"I've come this far. There's no turning back." _You will die,_ I chanted in my head.

I blinked the blue out of my vision. I was stronger now, and the Lich King was under pressure, too. He wouldn't take control of me. Not without a fight.

"We need to go. They're leaving," I stated.

Lucas' eyes drifted to the ring around my neck. "I love you, Gracie," he muttered carefully.

I smiled. He may have said it simply out of habit and duty, but it was still just as meaningful to me. "Love you, Lucas."

Zen and I followed our comrade's along the tunnel, the twenty of us looking intimidating. I just hoped we could deliver the same in our actions.

[end]

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Will update soon =]


	29. Icecrown, Pt 2

**Hello all :)**

****Gosh, I've missed these two in action. So how about another update, yes?

* * *

**Book Fourteen, Part Two**

**Icecrown**

We paced through the halls, a hunter's tiger comfortably trotting alongside me. The animal was reasonably easy-going—I didn't sense any threatening auras in our proximity, either.

Once we were through the first vast, dark hallway, we reached a circular opening—it had once been an eerily beautiful room, with ornate molding and domineering pillars. But evidence of a battle had marred the room's façade. Pillars had been demolished, their remains strewn across the marble floor. Char marks saturated many surfaces, and dark dashes of a thick liquid splashed numbers of tiles and pillars. The coppery scent it carried hinted that perhaps it was spilled blood.

And of course, the bodies. Two dead Horde soldiers—though the others, it seemed, had taken the time to straighten the bodies out into respectful, laying positions. The wounds, however, they couldn't hide—deep, bloody gashes that had mortally wounded—if not killed—the lost Horde.

There was one more body, though it wasn't really a normal body. Undead in origin, but with large, sharp bat-like wings I had seen only on dragons. Four skulls, not one, extended from its ribcage.

I was almost glad the Horde had been here first. To protect the dead bodies, seals and prayer beads were strewn across the carcasses.

We stepped over the debris, one by one, the scene increasing our awareness. Zen, still walking beside me, shot me a glance or two as we traveled through into another room.

It was in roughly the same shape. Another Horde body. An unknown female body. I curled my lip. The bodies were hardly recognizable here.

We reached the end of the second circular room. Carefully we took a strange elevator, floating along with the help of magic. Above us, a large boom erupted. I looked up, trying to ignore Zen's grasp on my arm as our platform shuddered. The movement was dizzying as the elevator continued onward. Two ships floated above us, caught in a battle. Once we drew closer to our destination, our slab of rock allowing us to drop off to another outer platform, a Human Alliance member waved us over. "Orgim's Hammer has already left! Quickly now, to the Skybreaker! If you leave now, you may be able to catch them!"

Confusion wanted to control my response, but then a mage donned in similar gear dashed over. "This ought to help!" With a big poof, the mage conjured a ship large enough to transport our huge group. Quickly we were on our way, sailing the evening sky to reach our Alliance ship.

"This is our chance to stop them!" the Human tank announced. "This is where we claim victory for the Alliance!"

My fists were clammy as we approached, the wind chilling my sweaty neck. The eerie calm was soon destroyed once our boat approached the Skybreaker, where soldiers were shuffling about, listening to orders and preparing.

"Ah, reinforcements!" the Dwarf, who I assumed to be captain, approached with a wobble. "The Horde…we're gaining. Go to the ship mechanic, starboard side. Grab a jetpack, and with the signal, you'll jump on board the Hammer."

Others were eagerly reaching for jet packs, but I stayed back. "Grace?"

"This isn't right."

Zen looked away knowingly. "We'll stay behind. On the Skybreaker. For defense."

I nodded in agreement.

Once we were close enough, the captain hollered to attack, and the noise of cannons caused my ears to ring. Many of our own large cannons made contact with the Hammer's hull, the burst causing splintered wood to rip through the air.

The masts above us were mangled and useless as the Horde finally made their advancement onto our ship. My daggers were free once they made an approach; a Blood Elf female rogue, to my amusement, came toward me with her daggers swirling.

_Damn._

It was the Blood Elf that attacked first. Her hand arched gracefully, and so quickly I barely dodged it. Her lean body was so much more swift than my own—I was still busy dodging the first when another arm swung across, cutting a superficial slash into my cheek.

I knew something was wrong when she smiled wickedly, knowlingly—then the tingling across my cheek began, the sensation evolving into a burn that made me hiss. "We shouldn't be fighting," I growled in my discomfort. "We're supposed to be allies."

"Filthy Common language," she spat in perfect Common. My patience—and pain tolerance—had enough. I tore through the air with my own daggers, unfettered as I slashed at the elf one after another. Finally she broke focus, a huge _boom_ to her left causing her to flinch, and I seized the opportunity to land a stab below her collar bone.

The Blood Elf paddled backwards, tripping over a loose floorboard before falling backwards onto her backside. Her dagger was effectively knocked away. "Go," I hissed. The Horde female faltered a moment in hesitation, but as I made a step toward her she struggled onto her feet and fled.

Both ships looked injured, the flags struggling to function as such due to artillery damage and singe marks. One of the Hammer's sails had caught fire, the heat easily felt from my position on the edge of our own ship. "_Look ou_-"

_Boom._

The explosion that ruptured to my right and had demolished the upper deck distracted me enough to make me swing my head. The impact's force stung against my cheek, my hair swept back.

Another force had me throttling sideways, my hip crashing into the side of the ship as my arms uselessly fell over to the side, taking my body with it. Panic had my lips sealed as my armored hands gripped the edge of the ship, which now rocked with a strange creak. My muscles were immediately strained, my heart feeling like it had lodged into my throat during the flip.

"All hands on deck!"

I rolled my eyes, unable to avoid the irony despite my predicament. The ship's mass was still creaking in places it shouldn't be, and our masts weren't exactly functional. But despite the chaos around me, I hoisted my body up with trembling arms and managed to get the upper half of my body back onto the ship.

Then two strong arms were on my back, pulling me completely into our ship to safety. "Now's not the time for sight-seeing, Grace, we're trying to get to the Lich King…"

Zen pulled me back onto my feet, a bulky jetpack now hooked to his back. The Horde ship was in far worse condition than our own, and now that I was momentarily safe I realized the Hammer was starting to drift downwards, its nose dropping as an orange fire consumed the front half of the ship's frame. A large, boring hole decorated its front starboard side.

"I hope everyone made it off Orgim's Hammer," Zen breathed, his skin already ashen.

"You weren't supposed to go over there," I growled. "You could have been retained as a prisoner…"

"The point is, I'm okay. We're all okay," Zen stated.

"Okay," I growled sarcastically.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya, scoundrels! Onward, brothers and sisters!" Our little captain hollered, his sword pointed onward. "Let's dock! For the Alliance!"

Zen must have caught my curious gaze, because he leaned in and whispered, "that's Bronzebeard. Captain of the Skybreaker. Ever since Jaina brushed with Arthas here and barely escaped-"

"Jaina?" I knew that name. "Going after Arthas alone?"

"Of course not. But…she and Arthas have a past. She thought she could save him. But Arthas isn't Arthas. He's the Lich King now."

Jaina, feelings for Arthas? The only Jaina I had ever seen was strong-willed and tactical, decisive. To go after the Lich King without assistance…

Maybe Jaina and I were more alike than different.

Bronzebeard and a handful of his Dwarven guards stepped off our dock and onto part of the Spire. The citadel was a towering, formidable piece of work—I looked down from our perch and gulped—we were high in the air, on a stoned platform that lead to stairs and a harrowing wooden doorway.

The chilling cold was expected, but I shivered none-the-less. It wasn't just the temperature that was cold. Bronzebeard was already up the steps as the rest of us gathered onto the platform, our numbers almost crowding its stoned form.

Two Dwarves were already pulling at the doors, their smaller bodies heaving with effort as Bronzebeard turned to us and motioned onward. "Let's get a move on, then! Move ou…"

Something felt wrong even as I stepped forward. Then the blue, glowing eyes were decipherable through the darkness behind the door, and a large figure's silhouette formed. "For every Horde soldier that you killed—for every Alliance dog that fell, the Lich King's army grew," growled a raspy voice. My hands were already at my daggers, but now I was very aware of how hard I was gripping the smooth handles. "Even now the Val'kyr work to raise your fallen as Scourge." My heart clenched at the thought—a quiet death wasn't an option against the Lich King.

The large being stepped through into the chilling daytime to expose his orcish appearance and glowing, runed weapon that could only belong to a Death Knight. His skin, once a vibrant earthen green, had chilled into the familiar pale blue of death. "Things are about to get much worse. Come, taste the power that the Lich King has bestowed upon me!"

Bronzebeard hooted. "A lone Orc against the might of the Alliance? _Charge!_" The soldiers listened, swords and axes out as they closed in on the Knight.

"Dwarves," the Orc spat, and with a wave of his hand, the Dwarves and Bronzebeard were frozen in place, perhaps to be finished off last.

I suddenly felt very anxious. Already our very Human tank was rushing toward the Orc, his consecration almost blinding as it lit the blackened stairwell. Then it was his weapon glaring against the runeblade, the sickening grind muffled by shouts and blasts of spells.

The close-up melee—warriors, rogues, and paladins—were beginning to charge, and I realized I should probably do the same, even as a low-flying fireball launched past my head.

I had one foot on the step when a strange rumbling sensation had me pausing; the Undead Orc had one hand extended, his blade momentarily incapacitating our paladin.

"The Undead are unstoppable," he announced. Dark auras were arriving behind me, and when I looked behind us a strange hissing erupted.

Three animals—clearly Undead now—had risen from the ground. Two front arms were equipped with claws that I surely didn't want to see up close. Despite their shadowy, sinewy bodies, the monsters growled through pearly white fangs. Lastly, the beast's jagged scales ran down its entire back, stopping at the base of a long tail reminisce of a dragon's.

I looked on in dark curiosity, even as the thing, without hind legs, skittered across the stone like a snake.

"Don't let them near the casters!"

Already our healers were distracted, their bodies reeling back as the Undead beasts squirmed toward the most vulnerable champions. I ran for one of the beasts, cursing out loud as it lunged and clawed at one of our Draenei priests. With only his staff, the priest could only ward off a bite from the creature until a set of claws managed to tear into his chest. The deep red blood was instantly soaking into the priest's white robes.

I reached the pair as the Draenei clubbed it in the head, its teeth in a snarl. _Then you're not going to like this,_ I thought vehemently, my right dagger coming down and striking into the animal's thrashing tail. With a lack of balance I still managed to pull down on my dagger, the stab becoming a heavy slash down the beast's tail that expectedly gushed dark brown blood. I was expecting a sort of horrific cry from my enemy, but it merely snarled more dangerously as its deadly teeth were now reared at me.

A curse would have passed my lips, but my focus was now set on sidestepping a lurch of the animal. A feeling of warmth was covering me, and I knew the priest, with his flashing spells, was somehow trying to protect me.

"Grace!" It must have been Zen's voice, but between the fight at hand, the urgent screams now meeting my ears, and the Death Knight's cackles, it was hard to presume.

"I'm a bit busy," I hollered anyway, even as the stupid lizard-dog managed to catch me off balanced; I turned away with my shoulder.

It still managed to get a hold of my left shoulder. Even the hardened pauldron was no good as a gnarly set of teeth punched into my shoulder.

The force may have smashed my left collar bone into pieces, I thought off handedly. I took a step toward my priest, my right dagger slashing and miraculously making a bloody gash across the beast's face that for a moment dazed him.

"Grace, move-"

The Death Knight must have casted something; I was facing the Draenei, minding the enemy between us when the Draenei's chest wound—momentarily forgotten—gushed and squirted crimson unnaturally.

At first, I felt only the warm liquid. Most of it splashed across my chest piece, but some did manage to reach all the way up to my neck. Then it was the identifiable smell and now, a terrifying, unexpected pain, seizing my newest injury and delving into my old scar that made me gasp.

Some sort of Death Knight magic, I knew, but it didn't matter at the moment. Right now, I clawed at the infliction, hearing it sizzle as if I was being branded; my new lizard-dog friend was coming back for his retaliation. I was having a hard time swallowing, but my hands were at my daggers and with one more jab the thing was motionless, my daggers ran through its neck.

I gasped, pulling my daggers out of the carcass before the pain floored me, my eyes watering as my hand reached for the burn. Burn was the closest word I could conjure—the skin was hot and fragile; I could imagine how scalded the strip of skin was.

"Here, quickly." The Draenei approached, his hands already aglow when they gently grasped my neck. The warmth became almost unnerving, but in no time the heat subsided and I could swallow without feeling choked.

"Thanks," I said simply.

"Now, stay away from me," he said with a wink. I nodded, turning my attention to the Death Knight. Things seemed momentarily in our favor. The Undead Death Knight was tired, his shoulders slumped as he evaded the tank's advances sluggishly.

Our tank needed an opening. Nodding, I hustled around the action—it wasn't difficult given our numbers—my steps silent as I sidled behind the dwarves' icy bodies.

I didn't hesitate—this could very well get me killed, but so could a fall if one fell just right. My dagger dove into his back, right beneath his shoulder blade where Zen had instructed me long ago that armor was weakest. He howled, his anger knocking my friends back momentarily so he could turn to his new aggressor. "You…" he growled.

"You're just another ugly Orc," I hissed. And for effort, I spat at his feet. He was quick; with brutal force the butt of his weapon swooped down and made contact with my jaw. The pain was instantaneous; liquid filled my mouth as I flew back an arm's throw away.

It hurt to even open my eyes, but I did so anyway; I would watch my death. I would hope my stupidity wasn't in vain. _Don't make me tag 'stupid' onto that list, _I remember Vii warning me. I was glad he wouldn't witness this.

The Orc laughed haggardly, big body taking another full step as my jaw continued to throb. His arm outstretched to cast something. Something deadly, I was sure. "The floor…will run red with your blood, girl," he announced.

I must have closed my eyes, because everything went black. But death never came. To be sure, I opened my eyes, only seeing the Knight collapsing to the ground, an axe protruding from his back. "I am…released…" he gasped with his final breath. Everything was silent, as if we expected him to rise again.

Then a very audible gasp erupted to my right, and I turned to see Bronzebeard and his soldiers back to normal, but a little blue in the lips. "That was Saurfang's boy—the Horde commander at the Wrath Gate. Such a tragic end…"

Another brief silence as we remembered the Wrath Gate. We had heard of the massacre, of the unbelievable amount of death and suffering that occurred…I shuddered.

"What in the…" Bronzebeard muttered. Then his hand rose, pointing off the platform. "There! In the distance!"

I didn't recognize the style of the ship, but the prominent burnt-orange flags alerted me of the danger we were about to face. "Horde," I whispered. In moments Zen was at my side, arm in front of me as if he could stop anything from harming me.

"Soldiers, fall in!" our captain yelled. "Looks like the Horde are comin' to take another shot!" And then Bronzebeard was moving as well, stalking across the platform to meet the single orcish figure now stepping off the ship. Bronzebeard walked right up to the aged figure, fingers curled into a fist. "Don't force me hand, Orc. We can't let ye pass."

The prominent Orc gazed steadily at Bronzebeard. "Behind you lies the body of my only son. Nothing will keep me from him."

The Dwarf was already retorting, but now what had my attention was the portal forming behind the Orc's body, the purple tendrils of the portal mystifying. I expected danger. A Horde attack. What I didn't expect was our King, with Jaina, to walk out as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Stand down, Muradin. Let a grieving father pass," ordered King Wrynn. Perhaps in surprise, Bronzebeard listened. Saurfang reached his son, kneeling gently as a hand hovered over the lifeless body. It must have been a prayer, or a goodbye that the father whispered in orchish, and then his son was in his arms.

"I will not forget this…kindness. I thank you, Highness."

"I…I was not at the Wrath Gate, but the soldiers who survived told me much of what happened. Your son fought with honor. He died a hero's death. He deserves a hero's burial."

My breath was caught somewhere, the sudden urge to cry causing me to quickly wipe away any moisture under my eyes as Saurfang took his leave. Finally, some unity, some hint at peace…

Jaina was crying too, though her sobs were a bit more remarkable. Varian turned, a bit caught off guard. "Jaina? Why are you crying?"

"It was nothing, your majesty," she clipped, using her palm to rid the tears. "Just…I am proud of my king."

"Bah!" Wrynn exclaimed, and suddenly everyone had slipped back into war mode. He turned angrily toward our captain. "Muradin, secure the deck and prepare our soldiers for an assault on the upper citadel. I'll send out another regiment from Stormwind."

"Right away, your majesty!"

Bronzebeard was instantly shuffling about, hopping back onto the ship with the others. I turned to the King who nodded in approval to the rest of us before turning back into the portal.

I followed the others closely as we continued inside to mend wounds and prepare for another fight, but I felt much calmer and convinced that we would be okay. Death or otherwise, I was ready. We were not alone, as I thought we were. We had the Ashen Verdict, we had the Alliance, and we had the king behind us.

The only thing missing was Fordring.

The architecture inside was unchanged, the air still wet and cool. But now, I felt the strong auras awaiting us. Auras that belonged to beings that wanted us dead.

A healer patched up my face enough that I could function. The pain wasn't unbearable, and I'd probably have a bruise, but at least my bones were intact. We moved on, boots sending ripples of noise up the walls and onto the high ceiling. "Go left," a hunter near me muttered. Others followed the order, and I had a feeling I knew why—the auras lurking straight ahead were more powerful. Going left would be easier. For now.

Surprisingly, we had minimal casualties this far. One healer, and a mage were dead after Saurfang's fight. But we would make do. Zen was uptight as he walked beside me; I'm sure his irritated aura was because of my recklessness.

Three hallways. Strong auras radiating from each. "We can split. Flank the right and left halls. The middle fight we can reunite and fight together."

This wasn't the first time doubt entered my mind, but now I chose to verbalize it. "Maybe we should wait for Fordring," I insisted. "He organized us, we owe him-"

"Don't get mushy and emotional on us," the Human tank instructed. I squinted my eyes, convinced it was a stab at me being a girl.

"Please," I growled. "_You're_ the reason Humans get called stubborn and brash. Hardheaded and stupid…"

"_Stupid rogue_…"

"Oh, as if warriors-"

"We can split," Zen announced loudly. "Fordring is not far behind, he'll find us soon. But for now, we can push forward."

The arguing, which had managed to snowball and include a good portion of our eighteen, ceased as we silently agreed. I nodded assent as well. No point in arguing with Zen, he was already angry at me.

I was going right, and Zen made a point to be in my group. For now our tank was a Dwarf warrior. We were stalking down the hall when a foul stench was beginning to make my nose crinkle. "Stupid," I muttered. "Fordring could take these things down with a swoop and we don't have the respect to…"

"Grace, just look at is as a way to protect Fordring. If he were to die, our cause is lost."

I was going to retort, but the stench had gotten so horrid that my attention had turned to our destination.

Before we could properly arrive into the next room, we came across a dirty, very alert hound. Its ears perked at our arrival, teeth bared, and without provocation it lunged for our Dwarf. Caught by surprise, our warrior hit the floor, sword sprawling away.

I didn't have time to react, and really, I had no need. The Night Elf hunter's arrow was already soaring with a swiftness that momentarily reminded me of Kae's skills.

The arrow had enough force to kick the canine off our Dwarf—and before it had time to recover, the hunter's pet tiger was launching, his fangs locking into the hyena's throat and putting it on its back. The hound eventually stopped resisting, body limp as the Dwarf stood back up and gathered his sword. "Thanks," he grinned.

We must have taken five steps, into the lip of the room, when the voice boomed. "_What? Precious? Nooo!_"

The being came from our right, and it was huge—its steps stirred the floor beneath us. The word _being_ was stretching it; the thing was one of those creatures—abominations, I think Taellor said—its body a mural of different parts and flesh sutured together. Its arms jutted out at incorrect areas, eyes disproportioned and clearly not from similar species.

Undead skins put together. Greens, browns, yellows. And the stench—rotting flesh and putrid vomit—nearly caused me to lose my breakfast.

The thing didn't move easily. Its two unequal legs allowed it to hobble forward as it hollered. "Rotface kill! Rotface make daddy proud!"

Daddy?

Already the thing was swinging, trying to knock some of us to our backs. Miraculously everyone managed to jump back and avoid the hit; but this must have been part of the monster's plan—its mouth opened, sending a stream of green slime toward us. It covered the once pretty floor, splashing and bubbling as it sizzled into its place.

This time I gagged, the smell so acidic it made me swoon. Now the green ooze painting the floor was a barrier—no one dared touch the substance that would most likely burn our skin down to the bone.

Of course our ranged soldiers were picking up the slack—our Night Elf hunter shot sparkling arrows, a warlock and her pet threw fireballs that would have floored anything smaller than Rotface. A dark priest was smothering the mutation with shadow damage.

Rotface may have tolerated the damage well, but it was quickly getting impatient and confused.

Spouts around the walls were spewing green ooze as well, behind the abomination. I figured the fountains behind us would soon be doing the same.

And of course I was helping the ranged melee. I had a bow and a set of arrows. My arrows stuck into its deep fat tissue, and it probably wasn't much, but a little damage was better than none.

Others meant for close combat were trying to find an opening, dancing around the lakes of green that kept us from really hurting the monster. But now there were blobs of ooze, sliding about like giant snails, and the paladins that were capable of taking heavy damage were distracting them from the rest of us.

Maybe it was because I was closest, or I looked most vulnerable, or maybe the Lich King hadn't forgotten about me and had me targeted—but now the abomination was looking right at me, and before it could register, the green, disgusting froth was spiraling towards me.

I could briefly imagine the gore of it all—my face seared past recognition, my face bones peering through scorched and melted flesh. Hopefully I would be dead before the pain settled in…

I felt the air get knocked out of my lungs as I was throttled sideways, my neck straining with the power. As soon as I landed I recognized the arms around my waist, and the face turned away so it wouldn't collide with my head. "Zen," I mumbled.

"You're still a bit slow, I'm beginning to second guess your initiation."

"Thanks." I pushed him off. "For the saving part, not the unnecessary remark."

"You're welcome. To both."

I didn't retort. I was rummaging through ideas, trying to figure out how to finish this fight.

The monster was fat, but it was also slow and stupid. If we could just busy it enough, the ooze would dissipate and our tank and the others could actually do their part. The slime pit was lengthy, but if I could get a running start…

"I've got it," I announced. "Zen, get as close to the ooze before him as you can. You can kneel on one knee, and I'll run and get a good jump over."

"No," Zen snapped. "We'll get someone else…the Dwarf, or…"

"Please," I snarled. "There's no time to instruct, the slime is coming from everywhere including the walls and I'm the lightest in size and armor," I explained. "And I've got the rogue skills." Zen was shaking his head, but I could sense his begrudged agreement. "Good," I snipped, slightly surprised at the ease of winning the argument. "Get ready."

One of our own—a male Night Elf priest—was now screaming in agony, body writhing in pain as the ooze ate away at his robes and destroyed his blue skin.

I stood well into the mouth of the hallway, my opening across the floor limited as electric green smothered the marble. The action never faltered. Zen watched carefully, minding the oozes and blobs, but I got his attention, and with a nod I pulled out my vanishing powder and began my sprint. I had never run this fast; not when playing tag with Dennis and Lucas, and certainly not in training. Just before I reached Zen's stooped figure, I threw the powder at Rotface's feet, the effect immediate as the monster was engulfed in my thick fog.

But I could sense just fine, and now my daggers were out as I leapt off Zen's steady back. I held my breath, lungs immobile as I soared across the green liquid. I'll make it, I chanted. And when I drew close enough, I slashed.

I definitely made contact, and when the fog lifted enough, I saw the damage—a clean cut through the neck, though it wasn't deep enough for death. Rotface gurgled, his attention now on me. I wasn't expecting his arm so soon, but when he made contact across my stomach I flew further than I had leapt.

At least his back is to them, I thought. The force into my stomach was so strong that I threw up the bile that had threatened earlier.

"You hurt Rotface! You die!"

I tried scooting away, away from Rotface and, consequently, the champions; but my feet wouldn't coordinate below me. Rotface opened his mouth, but this time, a green gas erupted instead of vomit. It hit my nose and mouth, causing me to cough, choke, gag, and blink through burning tears. "Wee!" it exclaimed, its feet pounding in entertainment.

"I'm not dead yet!" I growled, attempting to stand once more. Three more stomps met my ears, but at the moment all I could focus on was my breathing, and please, please let this be worth it.

Crunch. A growl. And I knew that for the moment the tiger had leapt and covered my ass.

My vision was blurred, but it was good enough. I stood, minding the ooze. Now my bones ached and it hurt to even think about moving…

The Dwarf was now on the abomination, axe unmatched against the slow, lumbering body of Rotface. Slashes and fireballs and arrows finally incapacitated our enemy.

"Bad news, daddy!" It swayed before slumping to the floor with a boom.

"Terrible news, everyone! Rotface is dead! But great news, he left plenty of ooze for me to use! What's this? I'm a poet and I didn't even know it!"

"Who…?" someone asked.

"Daddy," I grunted, finally trying to pull myself up. The ooze had vanished and I was feeling better, so I returned to the group as they healed, bandaged, and used special potions.

"Your abdomen, is it…?" It was my Draenei priest. I hadn't realized I had been cradling my stomach.

"Just a bruise. Save your mana."

We rambled down our hallway to return to the meeting place. The others weren't quite finished, but things seemed very calm down the hall. Probably healing after their own fight.

"You have a death wish."

"Zen, I'm using what skills I have…"

"Well, don't."

Zen. I had it with his hovering. I spun around quickly away from Zen and reeled back to land a good elbow into his abdomen. He gasped audibly, surprise the likely reason. It wasn't a hard blow.

"You are not my father," I began, "You're not my guardian. And you're not even my master anymore. Stop trying to keep me away from the fight."

"I swore to protect you."

"What, have you taken up a code of chivalry now?" I growled. "You have no duty here anymore!" I seethed, patience virtually gone. Zen stepped in even closer.

"This isn't about duty anymore, Grace. This is about-"

"What took ye so long?" Our Dwarf paladin bantered, hurling his axe onto his shoulder as the other group finally arrived.

"Technical difficulties," the other tank grumbled.

"Casualties?" called Zen. He must have dismissed our argument at the arrival of the group. I did a head count.

"Two. A healer and a warlock."

That left fifteen. But we had to push forward. As a single unit we trudged down the hallway. This aura was stronger. We snuck into the circular room relatively silently. The enemy had his back to us, a white lab coat unable to muffle the crazy, erratic purple hair on his head. And on the table before him, vials and vials of potions; beakers, mixers, bottles.

It was my confrontation with Clad that fell upon my mind, and I had to really focus on my breathing as the new enemy turned around, grin of entertainment painting his face. "Let's begin!" Quickly we were on our feet as two vials slid and skittered across the marble like chattering teeth; when they exploded, two familiar piles of ooze were covering the floor, bubbling and almost alive.

He dodged an arrow, and when the Human tank charged forward, the professor waved a hand, pulling a short bottle out of a breast pocket. "Nu-uh," he berated childishly. "Playtime's over!" he exclaimed, throwing the vial to our left. It crashed against the floor, causing me to flinch. And then it must have summoned the ooze now forming on our side—it grew and grew distractedly until it exploded, the force throwing everyone across the room.

My shoulder hit a pillar, the crunch audible even as I hollered in pain. It shot down my left arm, and I probably wouldn't be able to use it properly, but I carefully stood anyway. The others…

Shaking my dizziness away, I glanced over my comrades. Others were recovering already, shaken but intact. Zen was okay…but our tank was motionless just steps away.

Great. Great, great…

"'Ey, is he…?" The Dwarf tank. I huffed, stepping quickly over to the motionless Human. My cold fingers searched his neck for a pulse.

"He's alive. But you're going to have to take over momentarily."

The Dwarf grinned. "My pleasure."

I nodded. I looked down at the warrior, his face eerily docile. I should be fighting, helping the greater good. But with a groan I huddled over his body, turning him onto his back. A small gargle of a groan escaped his lips as I tugged off his helmet. "There's the scowl I know," I muttered as I attempted to shake him awake.

"The sun's not even up yet," the man grumbled.

"How hard did you smack your head," I asked rhetorically. Naturally, I got no sensible response. Something above his right shoulder was sizzling; I looked to see his sword, forgotten, its handle getting chewed up by a green puddle. I grabbed it carefully by its blade, flinging it in the opposite direction. "Come _on._"

The healers were too far. And distracted—our melee was having trouble getting in range to lift a finger, and the explosions and puddles were dealing enough damage. But our ranged melee was once again pulling through.

I should have been a mage.

I looked down, ready to attend to the warrior again when I furrowed and eyebrow. The green puddle was now sidling closer, only a flick away from us. "It moves." Of course it moves. In fact, it was expanding.

Quickly I grabbed his arms, dead weight as I tried pulling the burly Human out of the way. He moved maybe a step. "Damn it," I growled, hitting his chest. "_Too much mail_!"

"Mail from momma…"

"Oh by the Light…"

I looked up, searching for help, but Putricide (he so called himself) had other plans. "Not so fast everyone!"

The room filled too quickly, the orange fog creeping into my lungs and smothering me. I coughed, hoping I would clear the gas but fresh, clean air wouldn't reenter my lungs. The agony took me back; now my scar was on fire, my throat closed up. Through an orange, opaque lens I saw the tank's body, finally reacting, and I thought _he's_ my last memory, the last image before I die…

But the tortue wouldn't end. My heart was pounding through my rib cage, each surge of blood ripping at my scar, tunneling my vision.

The first breath was unfathomable. Like new life; except I was still at the throne, still fighting, still hovering over this dumb warrior. But now he was coughing, trying to sit up. Groggily I helped, nearly flopping over myself. "What'd I miss," he slurred, trying to wet his lips.

"Just a good fight," I grumbled. Glancing back, I found Putricide's figure—only now, he had two spider-like arms protruding from his chest. "Whoa!" I announced, grimacing as more bottles broke, more puddles formed. "I have to go. I have to help…"

"I'm coming." The man tried detaching himself from the floor. I pushed him back down.

"No. You rest. You…you guard the pillar. And don't touch the green puddles!" I instructed.

He should be fine. The puddles were a good distance away now. For the moment I focused on skipping around green blobs. I reached Zen first. "Any progress?" I asked.

"He's got some powerful potions, but the Dwarf and the pally are hacking away pretty good at him. It's progess." I went to reach for my daggers, but Zen grabbed my arm. "Why don't you go help our tank?"

"Ridiculous," I hissed. "Zen, I'm not going to avoid-"

"I know, but right now the warrior is making friends with the toxins over there."

I glanced over, already annoyed when I spotted the Human slipping off his pillar. "Damn it!" I wanted to throw something or kick a rock, but I made it to the warrior instead. "Okay, warrior-boy, let's go." I grabbed an arm and together we walked away from the growing puddles. Once we reached a wall, the male leaned against it and blinked. "How are you feeling?" I asked, the heavy sword of his unnatural in my hands.

"My head hurts."

I nodded. "Stay put. Here," I gave him a healing potion. I wasn't sure how effective it would be for headaches, but he took it graciously anyway.

"Thank you…rogue."

"It's Grace."

"Grace?"

"My name. It's Grace Fulstorm."

"Fulstorm, huh? Then Lucas…"

I gave the warrior a sideways glance, my attention in him perking. "Lucas is my brother."

He gave a knowing smile. "We trained together. You're like him." Suddenly I found myself mulling over the tank in a new perspective. Now we had a bond outside of this hell. "You're both strong willed. And good natured."

I smiled, minding how the blasts behind us were a safe distance away. "Lucas was my best friend."

"I take back what I said earlier. You're not a stupid rogue. You fight well." I made a move to thank him, but he waved it away. "My name is Micah."

"I'm glad we're now on a first name basis," I joked.

Micah shrugged. "You better get out there."

Nodding, I watched as Micah popped the cork off of my healing potion and finished the liquid in two gulps.

I must have taken only two steps when Putricide gasped, and in curiosity I looked up to see his body falling onto a consecration, an axe protruding from his chest.

My lips tightened, fists clenched as the paladin yanked his axe out of the now lifeless Putricide. _Seriously?_ "I missed the whole fight?"

"The tank needed you," Zen tried reconciling. We were further away from our group, who was now concerned with Micah. My aura was still heated, I could feel it in my cheeks, but Zen wrapped his arms around me gently—a gesture I surely wasn't expected. Now his voice was soft and desperate as he whispered. "Grace, I'm begging you. You can turn back. We can get along without you."

His embrace felt nice, after all of the fighting and pain, but I pulled away enough to see his face. "I can't. I can't leave you and the others to let you fight without me."

Now his hand, usually so lethal, was around my cheek, sending a cooling chill through my face. "We would be fine…"

"Zen, no," I answered. "I told you, I wanted to be at your side. Just because we're getting closer to…to the end," I gulped audibly, "doesn't mean I changed my mind."

His lips caught my own; another surprise while we were amongst the other Alliance members. It was deep and solid, and it made me feel so vulnerable in his arms now. Like so much was possible between us, but really nothing was possible at all…not here. Not at the heart of the citadel. Not when our lives were on the line.

"You're killing me," he whispered as he pulled away.

I knew what he meant. Sort of. Zen wasn't used to caring, _feeling_ when he was fighting. Now that I was around, it was hard to separate emotions from the battlefield; the feat he long trained me to execute. When you care about something, death doesn't seem like an option anymore.

And that's where a rogue's duty and his feelings collide and fight for power. A rogue's life was about danger and death. It was part of life now.

"Ay, rogues! We move out!" our Dwarf hollered. Zen audibly exhaled, his body heat pulling away from me. But he stayed beside me as we walked, his gaze forced ahead of him while his aura cooled down. I drew in a shaky breathe, my steps falling in line with Zen's.

It didn't take long to find our next fight. To the left, and into a darker, colder sanctum. I pulled my arms into my chest, looking down and realizing with a crunch that the marble floors had been replaced by bones and skulls. Three Blood Elves stood silently in front of us, chins up as they gazed at us in animosity.

"Foolish mortals," a voice boomed. It tore through the room, echoes of the feminine voice causing my head to pound. "You thought you defeated us that easily? The San'layn are the Lich King's immortal slaves! Now you should face their might combined! Rise up, brothers, and destroy our enemies!"

All elves attacked at once. Of course our two tanks had chosen two targets. The two outside Blood Elves had strange, murky auras, visible as a sparkling, nearly invisible shield of red.

Shield?

Even at the thought I watched as a Dwarf's blows clashed against the barrier, the spark creating gasps of confusion. But I knew. The middle laid wide open, no sparkles to protect him. I stalked toward my target, drawing my arrow. Time to test the theory out. "Mine," I growled, straining my poison-tipping arrow and letting it soar.

As promised, the tip delved into the elf's breastplate, the force perplexing him until he caught glimpse of my bow. In little time, though, I was three steps away, bow put away and daggers drawn.

I slashed, but Valanar dodged. "The other two are protected!" I growled.

A sneer had peeled at the corner of the elf's lip, and in an instant he was two steps too far, palms flexing to the ground. "Bow down, girl."

Swirls of electricity were jumping from the ground, leaping away from the Undead's pale hands and crushing into my chest. I remember flying back, legs and arms paralyzed as I struggled to merely breathe. _Has my heart stopped beating?_

Then a blunt feeling of pain poured over the right side of my head, and there was blackness.

* * *

Oh, Grace. You always know how to act as recklessly as possible =]


	30. The Lich King

Ohhh man, it's been WAAAAY too long since I updated -_-;;;

Time just seems to slip by me now, sorry!

Sooo, as many may guess from this chapter's good ole title, Rogue's Diary is coming to a close! Fear not-I will continue to write on warcraft, and possibly add a sequel to RD, if I get enough feedback.

Also, I'm thinking about doing an open story format where I'll write shorts, one-shots, etc. on different races, classes, etc. I know lots of you think the Horde didn't get much love in this story (can't help I play alliance :P), and I'm sure some would like to see warcraft in the different classes' perspectives too. So let me know if that sounds enticing to anyone. lol!

And obviously, if I haven't stated before, I DO NOT OWN WARCRAFT. That is Blizzard's good fortune. Also, you may see some conversations and dialogue that is found in-game. I don't own those either!

* * *

**Book Fifteen, Part One**

**The Lich King**

Within the confines of my head, I felt nothing. Nothing for so long. Days, it could have been; I had no way of telling. Then the pounding returned, vibrating throughout my entire head. A heartbeat, a tempo. A clock. _Ba-bump._

The chill was expected now. Of course he would take advantage of my helpless state. In my head again.

_You walk into _my _citadel, expecting to withstand. You will pay dearly._

I could feel my pulse increase, the pounding stronger.

"Grace." I still felt paralyzed, but consciousness was starting to pull me back to my Alliance. I knew what he was doing. With blind determination I threw up a mental block, body motionless. "Grace, are you okay?"

_Hold on_, I wanted to growl. But the bond was dissipating, and once I was completely sure, I opened my eyes. Zen was above me, hands clutching my arms. "I'm okay," I mumbled, blinking the dark spots out of my line of vision. I overestimated the amount of strength needed to sit myself up—the blood drained from my head, world spinning. Maybe I wasn't paralyzed after all.

"You hit that wall pretty hard," Zen explained. "Tzu was convinced you cracked your skull. But he healed you up enough to prevent complications."

"The Blood Elves-"

"We finished it. The fire singed your hair, but Tzu dragged you behind the pillar to keep you safe."

Tzu, I realized as Zen motioned to the owner of the name, was the Draenei priest. "Thanks," I called out genuinely. He nodded.

"So you're okay?" Zen asked. His eyes were too intense. I had to look down at my lap.

"Yes," I insisted.

"You're in…complete control?"

Anger momentarily flashed in my eyes; I knew so because my aura was flaring up. Was I incapable, in Zen's eyes, of handling my own? But Zen was simply looking me over, and the concern in his eyes soothed the flash of rage. "I am now," I answered simply.

He shot me a weary look, but helped me up anyway. "Let's move on. Grace, no more funny business. No more playing hero."

I couldn't find the strength to nod. Both of us knew I couldn't promise something like that, anyway.

Of course we were all battle worn; the edginess even _I_ could detect in everyone's auras, and I wondered momentarily if everyone else could feel the tension in the air.

The soreness reminded me of how much I wanted normalcy. To be through with the suffering. I think of how Dennis would tend to the headache, how Lucas would wink and say I've gone soft.

And then I push the thoughts away. Going soft meant being vulnerable to the Lich King.

"Let's move."

I stood up carefully this time, my legs still getting accustomed to working. Then we were off. The others had said the battle I missed had been easy, but as I left the room full of craters and scorched stone, it was hard to tell.

The headache returned; numbly I acknowledged the thought that it wouldn't be leaving. I had a battle to fight though, and it wasn't going to deter me. Our next battle was against the Blood-Queen, an undead that probably was beautiful during her stage of life. Now a sickly blue set of bat wings sprouted from her back, and her red armor covered skin of the same rotten color.

It was going okay. The fight was brutally energetic, but doable. Then she casted a spell, my heart rising in tempo as goosebumps formed on my skin. A fear cast. Some of us ran awry, others jumped back; I peddled backwards as well, tripping and landing on cold marble as mirages of poisonous spiders crawled up my arms. A shadowy image of a screaming skull, looking like smoke, tried swallowing my face, and I moved out of uncontrollable fear.

When the spell was over, one of our damage warriors had been attacked by her, bitten in the neck. At first it put him into some sort of blood-lust rage, his sword hacking at her and even landing a good slice across her arm. But she smiled instead as the warrior turned his back on her and instead lunged for Zen.

"Yes…feed my precious one! You're mine now!"

His eyes were dilated, I realized; a symptom common in mind control. Too late I noticed - he lunged, his teeth able to catch Zen off guard as they sank into his wrist.

Others were busy now, as the Undead enemy had begun throwing spells and batting others with her staff. Zen managed to push the warrior off with a swift kick into his chest, his body reeling over until Zen drove an elbow into his temple. He toppled to the ground unconscious.

Now Zen turned toward the bite, hands already trembling as I reached him. "Zen."

"Stay back."

"Zen, the bite-"

"Mind controls. I know."

"We don't have time. You have to bite me next."

He looked over. Already the bite's effect was spreading. It was a look mixed of caution and desire. _Not the right kind of desire_, I noted idly.

"If I bite you…" His voice didn't even sound like Zen's anymore.

"Then maybe the spell will skip you. You won't be mind-controlled." I hoped I was right. I hoped I found the loophole. The warrior had been on our side, albeit murderous until it snapped-maybe if the bloodlust was fulfilled, the mind control could be avoided.

It wouldn't be hard to convince the rogue. He wasn't rational anymore. His fangs wanted blood now; it didn't matter what source he got it from.

I tugged off my right wrist guard and pulled down my glove to show it to Zen. "Do it," I encouraged.

Zen swallowed hard. Then with shaky hands he took hold of my arm and used his fangs to puncture the skin. The sharpness of his teeth caused me to gasp—the pain was more than expected. When he let go, the blood continued to seep from two circular puncture wounds-and the effects were instant—my heart felt like it would blast through my ribcage; and the hunger for blood made me physically thirsty.

"How do you feel?" I articulated to Zen carefully. Zen tightened his fists, eyes still intense and unable to focus on one thing at a time.

"Like I could kill a vampire queen."

I tried to hide my smirk. "Go."

Zen would be fine, I told myself as I winced at my own state now. I didn't give in to the desire of blood and instead backed up shakily and forced myself to sit.

Gregor taught me to withstand this, and I could.

The headache was worse, but I closed my eyes. To say I was vulnerable was an understatement—so when the blackness grew cold, chilling my boiling blood, I was well aware that the Lich King was waiting for me.

_Now you will be mine._

Then my eyes snapped open, and I knew too well that he was trying—and succeeding—in controlling me. I didn't remember resisting; I didn't remember even telling my eyes to open.

It hurt to fight back, but I used all of the willpower I had to stop myself from standing. I watched as Zen thrashed at the enemy, blood spilling and pleasing me. My mouth was dry.

I didn't know if my cruelty came from a vampire bite or the Lich King's power. But I felt cold. So distant from what I saw with my eyes.

_Kill them._

How long had I been on my feet and walking? When the meaning of his words met my brain, I halted my pace with a strange stagger_. No. I won't. Never._

_If they don't die_, you _die._

The dagger, usually so warm and comforting, was foreign in my hand now as it turned around and pointed at my own chest. My hands were shaking terribly, but I must have been resisting enough because I wasn't dead yet.

_This isn't how you kill me_, I thought.

"But…we were getting along…so well."

The Lich King and I both watched as the Queen fell, one wing slashed to bits and her torso practically sliced through as she collapsed.

_Impossible._

The uncontrollable thirst vanished; the Lich King's control subsided to nearly nothing as my hand holding the dagger pulled away from my chest and stabbed it instead into the cobblestone below me. The blade wedged into a crack, the hilt glimmering as I pushed the invader completely out of my head.

I swooned, again lightheaded; but I grabbed my dagger in relief and thanked the Light that I had resisted. Carefully I staggered to the group, momentarily disappointed upon seeing the lifeless body of one of our shadow priests.

I didn't mention my difficulties to Zen. I came here to see through the death of the Lich King, and I would do so. Thus far, I had survived. I couldn't turn back now.

The group travelled on, upwards and upwards. The next room was similar to the rest, with charcoal colored floors and walls. In the center was a huge dragon, a vibrant green; but as we approached I could see the cage surrounding her—keeping her at bay.

Our tank entered first, as he always did. "Heroes!" the dragon spoke—not the strangest event thus far, but one of note worthiness. "I can't hold them off much longer!"

She still was speaking—but now what had my attention were the three zombie-like figures galloping at the tank, hands ready for a nasty spill. "Micah!" I called, and his axe was out of course, but barely in time to hack off a mage's arm. The hunter's feline was now tearing at a different one, and now we had time to react properly.

"I want two healers on us, and the other two on the dragon!" Micah called out. "Stay close, there's more…"

It wasn't a difficult battle, but the numbers of skeletons, abominations, and zombies streaming to battle were insurmountable. The dragon was being healed, thanks to our paladin and priest, and just when it seemed never-ending, her chains broke and she stood up straight.

"I am renewed! Ysera grant me the favor to lay these foul creatures to rest!"

Her skin seemed to shine like emeralds, and then the shimmering became a bright light that exploded into the darkness, pouring forth the blackened crevices and cracks. The light was so harsh I shielded my face—and when I uncovered my eyes, every enemy had disappeared. Disintegrated.

"Let's keep moving," Micah said, wiping his bloodied forehead with his arm. As soon as everyone was healed well enough, we pressed forward.

The pressure in my head was increasing, and as if that wasn't enough of an indication, the aura surrounding us grew thicker, colder, and darker. Everyone knew the battle that mattered was looming ahead.

My heart was constantly pounding now; anxiety never left. We continued our spiral up, until we reached another opening that lead outside. Blue flames illuminated the darkness, casting streaks of light across the group of massive steps. We were much higher up now—the cold air was thinner and harder to breathe.

Even in the darkness I caught sight of the massive creature now flying around our tower; a body of ivory bones that formed a gargantuan dragon that reeked of Undead origin. It shrieked loudly, jaw opened as the blue fire smoldering within its ribcage and eyes brightened.

"It's huge," a female priest gasped.

"Sindragosa," the Dwarf paladin growled.

"You are fools to have come to this place!" the voice boomed. It reverberated throughout the stone, echoing and omnipotent as my hand rested on my dagger. "The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!"

The noise was still ringing throughout the walls when the boned dragon's talons hit the stone floor, causing a definite crack as the rumble left me trying to regain balance.

The dragon was already charging, and once its claws were within range it raked across the stairs, barely missing me as I jumped back.

Well, I didn't want to be near her front end. I stepped around to the back of the massive body, a gray wing nearly tackling me to the ground. For the first time I felt nearly useless as my daggers sliced at skeleton bone. It made nicks that I'm sure felt like pin pricks to the mammoth beast.

Zen was now beside me, his daggers slashing away as well. "It's useless," I growled.

"Just keep her occupied." Both of us ducked as her thick tail tried cracking our skulls. "Distract her and watch for her tail and claws."

The tail lashed out again, shifting me to the right away from the body. Then it was like everyone was brought in by magic, toward her ribs, where she began growing and trembling with power. "Everyone _move_!" Micah hollered.

I was already moving, my legs not my own as I struggled through the chill to evade whatever the dragon had in store. The blast felt like an elek had kicked me square in the back; my breath was momentarily misplaced as my body flew forward, skidding onto the top stair with a definite screech.

My hands had attempted to take most of the floors impact, but I could feel the burn as the right side of my face brushed across the rough stone as well. The feeling of warmth smoothing over my face let me know that I was bleeding.

But I stood up anyway, knowing that our current enemy was equipped with claws and a tail that I currently couldn't see. My daggers had miraculously remained in my hands, despite the scratched up knuckles. I turned quickly, watching as the boned animal shrieked and lunged forward to claw at our retreating figures.

Micah intercepted the aggression easily, but I still found myself worrying—Micah was the mouse being played with by the cat, and those claws were sharpened to kill.

I had just made it back to my spot in the back when a strange white aura spread across the stone floor, immediately chilling me to the bone. My brain was on ice, thoughts useless as they tried signaling my body to move. Movement was delayed, but I could hear the casters on the stairs hollering commands. "Blast her with what you've got! Micah's chilled!"

The bright lights of spells were blinding, but eventually the immobile feeling subsided. My knees unlocked, teeth chattering as I could again move in time to dodge a tail swipe.

"Suffer, mortals, as your pathetic magic betrays you!"

The magic that had momentarily helped Micah seemed to get absorbed and then shot back as dark shadows that launched at our casters. Many hit their mark, sending casters backwards.

"Your incursion ends here! None shall survive!" Her wings beat viciously as she flew upwards so high I only saw the blue glow flickering. It was silent for the longest moment as we walked forward cautiously, looking for any sign of a fight. The paladins and priests were quickly casting heals and buffs. Everything was still silent until the bolts of white whistled to the ground, pounding the stone and splintering dangerously.

"Spread out!"

But already we were spread thin, and only after I had ran to the far left did I realize Zen's body had been engulfed in a block of ice, his eyes closed and daggers still drawn. "Zen?" I screamed, hands hitting the ice-cold surface and merely glancing off.

A huge blast exploded to my right, causing shards of ice sharp as glass to splinter and shred any of my skin that was visible. My face and neck, even my covered arms felt the sting, but still I grabbed my daggers and tried chipping at the ice encasement.

It wasn't going to do any good, I realized—like an ice pick scraping a mountain. Panic and terror clenched at my throat, a scream ready to emerge, when a small hand grabbed my shoulder. "Here, step back," the female gnome said, her aura already glowing. The mage and another priest were casting spells on the ice, quickly making it melt. For the moment, we were sheltered by the diminishing block of ice, and Zen was released just as the bolts of ice stopped crashing down. He gasped loudly, lips blue and trembling as the priest continued to warm and heal him with the Light.

"Zen!"

"I'm fine," he chattered, though his arms now hugged his own chilled body as he shivered. "Just…just go."

My lips tightened. Certainly Zen didn't want me fighting—he had made that clear by now—but obviously he would prefer me distracted and fighting over worrying about him.

I watched numbly as the dragon landed, a roar ringing in my ears as blue flames stretched across the floor in a lethal dance. With a small reach I found my bow and poisoned arrow, knowing this fight wasn't my kind of fight. But I drew the arrow anyway, watching as Sindragosa aimed disastrous bites toward those closest to her. I released, my bow humming. The arrow pierced the inside of her jaw, causing her to hiss in surprise.

It was nothing, I knew. Like how it would feel if I bit my cheek. But it angered her, alright, and as she tried pawing the nuisance out of her jaw, our Draenei paladin and Dwarf paladin hurled huge smites and spells of Light that surely caused her bones to melt.

Another louder, angrier cry, and then she emitted another aura of frost meant to immobilize anyone close. "Help melee!" I called to the casters—more blasts took over the black sky.

The spells were thrown back again, causing our enemy to howl a mangled cackle. "Useless!" she boomed, wings batting her upwards once more.

Again two were frozen—the paladins—and the others were working on melting them out of the block as those unable to help sought shelter. "We have to finish this when she comes back down!" Micah instructed. I nodded, blinking as ice shards exploded in front of the platform I had hidden behind. "Give it everything when she returns!"

My head pounded so hard I thought I could faint, but when the definite boom signaled Sindragosa was back, I stood anyway.

I used my bow, the others mercilessly slashing and hurling spells. She must have taken some serious blows, because her body swooned, her cries more desperate. The paladins chanted together, a light forming around them, just as our warlock threw a cataclysmic spell that sizzled and hit the target with a hiss.

Light consumed my vision, so bright that even my closed eyes felt the heat of the power.

"Free…at last."

When I did open my eyes, Sindragosa was motionless on the platform, blue flames absent as a mere pile of bones laid before me. The warlock collapsed out of exhaustion, getting the immediate attention of two healers.

Micah sat on a step, visibly worn out as flashes of heals cocooned him. "How do we move on?" he asked. "Everyone's out of energy. We've used every tool, every ounce of strength possible and now we have nothing left to fight with."

"All is not lost, heroes."

The comforting aura I should have picked up sooner now seemed overpowering as Micah stood up at the sound of Fordring's voice. "Highlord," he gasped in surprise.

"Relax, warrior." Fordring's aura glowed golden as he approached our haggard, bloodied group. "The biggest fight is only up ahead, and you are acting defeated already."

"We were ignorant in leading an attack alone," Micah admitted carefully. I wanted to pat him on the back; all was forgiven.

"Well, we are here now," Fordring commented lightly. With a twinkling pair of eyes he lifted his hand over the group, glittering light falling over everyone. Immediately the healing effects were noticeable—my body felt almost as perfect as before this ordeal. "Long have I waited for this day, hero," Fordring announced simply. "Are you and your allies prepared to bring the Lich King to justice? We charge on your command!" he stated fiercely, facing a rejuvenated Micah.

"We are prepared, Highlord. Let us battle for the fate of Azeroth! For the light of dawn!" Micah hollered, sword held in the air.

Others cheered as well, but I watched Fordring as he smiled thinly.

I couldn't say I wanted death. But death was so common now, so surreal. Death was part of surviving now. And if I died, I prayed to the Light that it would not be in vain. I prayed that should I die, the Lich King would die with me.

It didn't feel real now. Not as we followed Fordring through the thickening darkness of the Lich King's aura. Perhaps it was my pulsating headache that displaced me from our new arena. Before I had processed it, we were within the large circle, before the Frozen Throne. The pointed obelisks towered around us, mocking us with their runes of dark magic. Fordring stepped assuredly across the ring, to the base of the endless steps going upward. At the top of the throne was the Lich King.

He always seemed so real in my mind, so capable; and now, standing before him, I could fully understand his insurmountable display of callous and bloodlust.

Fear, maybe. But having something to fear meant having something to live for. The acknowledgement of what I had gotten into began to sink into my skin, and I wanted nothing more than to jump into Zen's arms and hide my face. I stayed put instead.

"So…the Light's vaunted justice has finally arrived. Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at your mercy, Fordring?"

The slithering voice was all too familiar, the same voice haunting my thoughts for weeks and weeks now. It made me clench my fists. Fordring was un-phased. "We will grant you a swift death, Arthas. More than can be said for the thousands you've tortured and slain."

"You will learn of that firsthand." The Lich King began his descent to our level, his dark cape billowing as the tainted aura fought to overpower Fordring's pure, golden one. "When my work is complete, you will beg for mercy—and I will deny you," he growled coldly. "Your anguished cries will be testament to my unbridled power." Frostmourne glowed its own aura as the Lich King stood expectedly at the bottom step, one leap away from Fordring.

The Ashbringer was drawn now, glimmering as Fordring steadied himself. "So be it. Champions, attack!"

Before we could react, the Lich King waved, and Fordring was immobilized within a familiar case of ice. "I'll keep you alive to witness the end, Fordring. I would not want the Light's greatest champion to miss seeing this wretched world in my image."

"_You filthy corpse!_" Micah screamed, sword out as he took the first step. The rest of us quickly followed.

"Come then, champions, feed me your rage!" The Lich King strode past Fordring's motionless form, his sword meeting Micah's with a loud hiss. I was certain Frostmourne would decimate Micah, but he held fast.

Everyone was full throttle; spells whooshed past my head, and the floor warmed with consecrations. Being so close to the Lich King was hurting, but I slashed away, my daggers seemingly doing no damage.

"Your mortality could be cured…" Green smoke smothered a paladin, causing him to cough and swoon, but a priest managed to dispel whatever was harming him. The Lich King continued to wield Frostmourne against us, the power nearly overwhelming. Once he felt smothered, his hands would reach outward and conjure a ghoul, who was a head taller than the rest of us. It tried taking swings at my face, but our paladin tank quickly had the thing distracted.

We were managing for a while, until issues seemed to start arising. The priest was saying the plague kept jumping, once he dispelled it, to different beings that were nearby. Shadows began forming below us, and luckily nobody had yet to figure out what they were programmed to kill us with.

Micah swung fiercely, teeth gritted as he managed to get the Lich King off balance for a moment. He growled in victory, unrelenting as the Lich King then flashed a dark spell that momentarily stunned the tank—he gasped and dropped his sword.

It gave Arthas enough time to stick Frostmourne in the ice and begin casting something. The power conjured was unbelievable as it spiraled around the Lich King's form.

"Everyone back!" I screamed.

"To the edge!"

Everyone listened immediately—the horrors trudged after our Dwarf, who momentarily disregarded his giants to trample to the edge with us.

"I will freeze you from within until all that remains is an icy husk!"

I turned to run, just as Zen grabbed a hold of Micah's heavily armored arm. "Forget it, Micah!" Despite Zen's smaller structure, Micah was pulled back, his sword forgotten in the center of it all.

The power unleashed all at once. A blistering, icy wind—ten thousand times worse than any other in Northrend—poured from the center of the platform, burning my skin and leaving me breathless. The gale pushed me back even further, my heel scraping the rough edge of our circle, when the silver glint of Micah's sword caught my gaze.

Micah and Zen had barely made it to safety; they're bigger builds taking to the harsh winds worse than me. The sword was skittering against the icy floor, sliding toward the edge to my right.

I didn't realize I had made the decision until I had broken into a run and got nicked by the outer boundaries of the blistering spell; my skin felt on fire and caused me to yelp as I swung out of the way and slid on my rear. One foot was hanging off the perilous ledge, wind tormenting my irritated face, when my hand caught the hilt of Micah's falling sword. Impulse is what kept me alive-my off hand still held my dagger, which I stabbed into the sheet of ice. It was enough leverage to keep me on the platform.

A curse word erupted as I forced the half of my body back onto the platform, chest heaving as I carefully pulled myself onto my feet. Micah and Zen found their way to me, faces showing surprise. Micah exhaled as I yanked my dagger free of the thick ice. "Thank you. I don't know how we would even have a chance if-"

"It's nothing," I answered, withholding the urge to rub my face where it contacted the storm.

Then the wind was over, and with astonishing speed Micah charged, sword glistening. The Lich King dodged, hilt crushing Micah's upper back and forcing him onto the ground. "Watch as the world around you collapses!" Then Frostmourne was glowing again, splintering the ice around it with blue lightning.

I meant to move. The outer circle was glowing now, and cracking at a quick rate. But now I _couldn't_ move—the Lich King had taken the time to be sure he kept me put.

"Grace!"

The snow shifted below me, no longer stable ground. My feet didn't try moving, and the feeling of weightless suspension caused my stomach to do somersaults.

The soon-to-be fall seemed bottomless. Then there was a tug, a huge _whoosh_ as a sting of pain shot up my right arm. The sensation was enough to separate me from the Lich King—I blinked hard, body collapsing onto immobile ice as Zen released his grip on my arm. "Zen," I breathed.

"This is too dangerous for you," he stated, trying to address me but instead watching the mess of a battle. "You are face to face with the _one_ being capable of throwing you off this cliff with just the blink of his eyes. He could do that _a continent away_, and now he's _here_."

"I know," I croaked, unable to look at his sullen face. "I know."

"I didn't come to watch you die." I said nothing, it hurt too much. This hurt too much. His lips tightened, eyes not on me but full of intent anyway. "Grace, I-"

"Val'kyr, come to my aid!"

I grinded my teeth. The voice of the Lich King was bone-jarring; my temples throbbing worse when he would speak. But the shriek of a response had me on alert, and I opened my eyes in time to witness our Dwarf off-tank get picked off by the "Val-kyr"-the bird-like Undead angels that I had only once more crossed paths with. Its huge wings had the little paladin in flight in no time, and in awe I watched as the hollering Dwarf was flown off the platform and dropped, only to eventually slam into solid ground that was breaths away from us now.

Though the snow had begun to drift and paint the winds before us, it wasn't the cause of my shudder.

"Everyone keep close! I want the casters aware of-"

The beings that had been corralled by our Dwarf—the Undead _giants_—were now giving Micah a hard time, and the Lich King took advantage of it. His blade sliced, cutting Micah's forearm and drawing blood with a hiss. Our Night Elf warrior, not used to playing tank, attempted to draw our additional Undead away from the main fight. We had another Draenei paladin trying to make a mark on the King, while the hunter and tiger focused on all of the beings meant to distract us from the Lich King. Zen was also now joining the fight against Arthas, and as spells and flashes burst around me, I went to attack as well.

The Lich King would continuously keep us feet away, either by sword or spell or brute force. He elbowed Zen away, a splintering crunch drowning out a yelp as he fell and clutched his face. Then Frostmourne was swinging toward the distracted me, and even though I wasn't struck, the _whoosh _of power threw me on my back. "_Bow down before your lord and master!_"

I heard the sizzle before the pain set in. But when the fiery sting of pain flared across my upper back and left forearm, I bolted upright, screaming as the stick, tar-like substance refused to let me go. Eventually I escaped, though the unrelenting sensation of hot coals on my skin told me I had suffered much damage.

"Watch out for the pool-"

I blinked, mind non-functional as I glanced behind my left shoulder to view the damage. My legs almost gave out as the stench of burnt flesh and the image of scorched muscle and tissue hit my face. My heart rate increased; my back was definitely suffering—breathing became difficult as it stretched and tore my already blotched skin.

The pain had tried dragging me into a different world, and I wanted to give in. I wanted to collapse and shudder and beg for relief. But I couldn't. And when a second sizzle and cry met my ears, I found myself back on the platform, before the black pool that now held the female Night Elf priest that had drawn too close. Her body must have fallen in face down, and now the ooze was bubbling, eating at skin from the neck down.

The Night Elf hunter must have been calling her name, and desperately. The tone of his voice and her eyes of anguish compelled me: I reached for her. Even as her hand gripped my own did her legs burn and shrivel up into mere bone. Her hand slackened, slipping from my own as her eyes rolled back, her body splashing again into the vile liquid to be eaten away completely. I gasped, in pain and revulsion, my body hating me right now as I stumbled backward only to land on my injured backside.

How much longer.

Only moments had passed as I looked on at the massacre. I watched numbly as the druid in tree form was easily carried off the ledge and rid of. I watched as more slick pools of black appeared, cornering us. Herding us.

I blinked, hard, trying to keep the blackness that was working to drag me into unconsciousness at bay. Another heavy storm began like the first, pushing us back to the dangerous edge. I barely made it to safety. My back, already damaged and losing blood, felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly by the storm's waves of power. I was at my breaking point. The pain was too much, the reality too real. Zen was at my side, his bangs mussed by the wind as he found my injuries. His own bloodied face stared in shock. "Grace?"

"It's over," I breathed with difficulty. "This is it."

Zen's lips tightened, the way they always did when he didn't want to say something, but would anyway. His hand found my own, though it was splotched with dry blood, I clung onto it like it was my lifeline. "This is it."

I looked. Micah was trying to hide his swollen face. Even the ranged damage—our remaining hunter, mage, and warlock, had taken beatings. I locked eyes on Zen again, who had been studying me, but now pulled me carefully in, his lips locking onto mine, tasting of urgency and grief and desperation. It would all be over soon, and we would not exist. But right now, I had Zen. We had each other. Zen was mine.

I mourned the lives lost. I mourned for the future. My family. I grieved over my powerlessness. What would become of life?

_I tried._

Zen pulled away with a shudder, my tears finally able to fall. "We'll do this together, remember?" he asked softly. It came out hoarse. "No matter how it ends."

Zen was reminding me of the tournament, when I had told him the same thing. I smiled, though it hurt to by now, and gave Zen's hand a final squeeze. "No matter how it ends."

The winds were waning. Micah stood, blue eyes sparkling behind grimy, bloody cheeks. "_We will not die without a fight_!" he screamed. "For the Alliance!"

We charged before our ground splintered. Before I could reach the Lich King, I was met by two purple ghouls, their claws reaching for my death.

It hurt to fight. Zen had gotten pushed away from me by these things, and now I had to dodge two swipes from them. I tried an offensive attack that was utterly pitiful in technique in speed. The hunter's feline came to my aid, and with its help I rid of the two ghouls. I looked up to see the warlock getting slashed by another foul spirit, and with an inhuman cry I dove, my dagger swiping at what should have been legs. The ghoul turned with a fluid motion—I ducked away from another clawed attack and stabbed ungracefully. The fire on my back flared at every movement, causing me to groan. My enemy growled in agitation, drawing its hand back for a death blow, when a cascade of Light smothered it, leaving no remains of the spirit behind.

It was the Draenei priest, Tzu. I forced a smile out of habit, meant to be a 'thanks,' but it went unreturned. Solemnly the priest shook his head. "It's Zen…" He motioned toward the mangled body left for dead on the opposite side.

My whole body wanted to heave in misery. Each step toward him was difficult, physically and emotionally; the Lich King was a stone's throw away, where he was currently dealing with the Night Elf warrior who was shielding the body of an unconscious Micah.

I disregarded the danger. Why fight. Why prolong the inevitable. And I needed to see him; I needed to be with Zen. When I made it, I kneeled and gently rolled Zen onto his back, ignoring the own scorching pain that shot up my spine. Were my hands going numb? Immediately the pungent smell of blood hit my nose; the puddle of scarlet he now lay in made me choke back a cry. "Zen, Zen…" I tapped his cheek, his face so bloody and pale. The gashes responsible had torn open his chest and abdomen, so gruesome I couldn't get myself to look over them. Fatal wounds.

Zen opened his eyes weakly. I cried his name once more, my mouth mumbling incomprehensible nothings as I ripped off my cape and tried covering the gashes that would keep bleeding anyway. I was desperate. I had to keep Zen alive.

"Grace, listen. I have to…"

"Zen," I whispered, pushing a silver wisp of his bangs back like it would sew him back together. His hand, so cold, somehow found my own as my other tried cradling his neck.

"Grace, I love you."

I smiled through a gasp of sobs, my vision blurry. Forcefully I wiped the tears away—I had to see Zen now. "Zen-"

And then it was just pain. Through my tearful eyes I could see the cold, silver blade of Frostmourne protruding from my own chest, destroying my heart. Destroying me.

_This is how you die._

When the blade was pulled out with a sickening _swish_, I watched my own blood pool around Zen and me, scarlet on scarlet. My eyes, already receding into the dark, locked onto Zen's, still a brilliant green. Shock riddled his face; concern for me even as he lay beneath me dying. I panted once, trying to say his name one last time. And then there was blackness.

[end]

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There you have it! ONE MORE UPDATE LEFT for my lovely readers. Please review it makes me so so so so so happy =PPP

3ritti


	31. The Lich King, Pt 2

So this is the final chapter to my story. That means A Rogue's Diary is COMPLETE. No worries..I'm already working on a sequel.

If anyone has any ideas/input, it'd be awesome to hear =]. Also, if missed before, I'm thinking of writing one-shots and the like of different races/classes, etc. Maybe starting polls for such. So ideas would be appreciated =]

This story has been about 6 years in the making,I believe. It started probablly my junior year of high school, and now I'm all grown up graduated from college with a career. Time flies!

This story has been a part of me. It's kept me sane during stress and it's like ending a part of me! I hope everyone else has enjoyed my story as well. It is OFFICIALLY the first fanfic I've ever COMPLETED!

Without further ado...I love you all!

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**Book Fifteen, Part Two**

**The Lich King**

Death was supposed to be a release; an escape from pain and suffering. Crossing over was always associated with warm lights and comforting peace. Death was supposed to be a place of rest.

So why did I feel so cold.

Everything came into focus, but it wasn't like before. I wasn't alive, no. I was viewing things in the Lich King's eyes now; perhaps my own brain wasn't dead yet after all, if I could still have this profound connection to the one who killed me.

The Lich King prevailed. My comrades were all dead now—I saw my own body as well, face down next to Zen's.

_How was this possible?_

My name is Grace Fulstorm. I am a rogue for the Alliance…

Frostmourne glowed mockingly in his—or my—hand. The aura it possessed was so dark and controlling, and the Lich King was pleased.

"No questions remain unanswered. No doubts linger. You are Azeroth's greatest champions! You overcame every challenge I laid before you. My mightiest servants have fallen before your relentless onslaught, your unbridled fury…"

I never said goodbye. To mother, Matthew, Lucas. To Zen. I love you, he said. Zen's last words, and they were special.

"You trained them well, Fordring."

The pain was gone. My body would not be my own soon. This would fade…

"You shall be rewarded for your unwitting service." The power surged once again, dark and pulsating. "Watch now as I raise them from the dead to become…" Sound was dissipating, the images I saw blurring and eventually disappearing.

This wasn't the end after all.

Of course I couldn't be left for dead. The Lich King wouldn't let us die peacefully. We would be resurrected as his pawns.

I waited for the rude awakening, my body unable to rest. I was too familiar with this scenario. I had slipped away unscathed too many times.

Now I wanted death. Anything besides coming back a hollowed, brainwashed shell.

But then it was warm and comforting, a bright glow taking over the black shadows in my mind. It was _good_, and I hoped that Fordring had prevailed and prevented our Undead return. I hoped.

When I opened my eyes, I was nowhere near Icecrown. I wasn't near my death or the destruction of the world.

My arms lifted my body up off of the grass, and I turned onto my back to study where I had been displaced. A melody of giggles met my ears, encouraging me to relax and finally breathe without worry of how I had gotten here. The sun was too bright here—I had to shield my eyes with my arm, now bare as it caught the rays of warmth.

Is this heaven, then?

I looked down, stunned at the contrast of my clothing from just moments before. I was wearing my plain cotton dress again, and it reminded me of my life back at the cottage with Mother and Michael.

Once my eyes adjusted to the sun, I could see what had been causing the laughs before me. Two children, a boy and a girl with hair shining gold under the sun, played tag in the long grass.

A memory?

It could have been Lucas and I, I thought; the little boy definitely had Lucas' brilliantly intelligent eyes as he grinned at his smaller counterpart. And the little girl smiled in admiration at the boy, looking up to him with sparkling eyes.

The children were running away now, and I found myself standing up to watch them leave. "_Wait up, Asher!_"

Huh?

It was getting more and more difficult to see them through the sun's bright rays, and my curiosity had perked too much. I took a firm step forward, and went to take another toward them—when a hand on my shoulder caused me to freeze.

"_Not yet, Grace."_

The words must have barely been a whisper, but now everything fell silent; the wind had stopped swaying the grass, and the laughter had run away with the children.

In those three words my world stopped, but my head was spinning. I turned on my heels, bare legs tickled by blades of grass, as my eyes met a golden smile. "Dennis," I whispered.

"It's been awhile," he announced.

My arms were wrapped around him instantly, probably knocking the breath out of both of us. Still, he managed a chuckle. "This means I'm dead, right?" I asked bitter-sweetly.

"Kind of."

I pulled away, trying not to let the tears slipping off my cheeks visible to Dennis. "We couldn't do it. We couldn't stop the Lich King…" Dennis smiled, and it made me want to go back in time and relive all of our younger, happier days. Before the war took its toll on our lives, and before Dennis, Lucas, and I were torn apart. "That's your smile that says you know something I don't know," I acknowledged.

"You're not going to die here, Grace. You're too important to the Alliance, and too important to me."

I stepped back, my confusion evident on my face until I remembered where I had heard that line before. "You said that before I hearthed. When you saved me."

His smile never faltered, but I could read Dennis too easily, still. "And I stay true to my words."

My head was shaking fiercely, and I forced my eyes shut in anger. "I'm already _dead, _Dennis!"

"Technically, you're in the process of dying."

A shuddering breath came out of my lungs. "Then where am I?" I asked.

"A crossroad of sorts. You need to turn back, Grace. For the sake of Stormwind. For the living."

"H-how is that possible?"

"A resurrection spell, of course."

The glowing light was getting stronger and stronger behind Dennis, and I had to focus to be able to see him. "You're saving me again?"

"Not me," Dennis answered simply, a charming smile flashing across his lips. "I simply came to see you once more."

Pain clenched at my chest, and I knew I really wasn't dead for good. Death wouldn't be so painful. "One more thing," I mentioned desperately, fighting the Light that began to overtake the calming scenery behind me. Beckoning me. "Those two kids," I said, breathless now with earnest, "who were they?"

"The crossroads harbors many things, memories included," Dennis explained. "But it also is the home to everything capable and being. Life and Death, and the past, present, and future."

The wind was picking up now, but I had a feeling it wasn't of this world. It was from the blast of Light, now begging me to return as Dennis foretold.

"That doesn't answer my question," I nearly growled.

But Dennis merely smiled again, forming the Seal used to protect me in the Living world. "Always protect those dear to you."

I cocked a smile, because Dennis had become quite eloquent with dramatic one-liners. "Always," I answered, just as Dennis' lips again touched my forehead in a sign of protection and loyalty. Then the Light engulfed the both of us, the heat causing my cheeks to burn with life.

_Rise up, champions of the Light!_

And then my eyes were open, the first breathe into my lungs so satiating that all I really wanted to do was lay there and be. But my eyes were now soaking up my vivid surroundings—of Fordring smothered in holy Light, of the Lich King now cornered, doubting himself for the first time. A glowing, tall-statured ghost stood before everyone, and I knew that he was the one responsible for resurrecting me back to _life_.

As well as the others, now on their feet with the same awed expression I probably had on. Our tank alive. Casters. Everyone that had made it up to those final moments.

Zen. Without a smudge of blood or terrible gash. Flawless and breathtaking—and if we still weren't face-to-face with the Lich King, I would have thrown myself into his arms right then. My own body felt completely new, rejuvenated. My skin and health intact.

After our realizations (and there were many), our group settled on the baffled face of the Lich King, now standing awfully prone before us.

"The Lich King…_must_…_fall_!" hollered Fordring, his voice echoing and settling into my entire being.

The Lich King's body was seized by wisps of gray, his body alone unable to defend himself. I drew my daggers as the others readied their own weapons, and when Micah charged, the power of the Alliance was unfurled.

"Now I stand, the lion before the lambs…and they do not fear." Brilliant spells were already hitting their mark, causing the Lich King to shield his body. "They cannot fear."

Zen and I slashed at different angles, slicing away at armor and skin, watching as spells of fire and Light finally penetrated. His blood was black as it spilled at my feet, and I knew that we couldn't spill enough of his blood to avenge those we lost.

But his death meant freedom. To live.

My dagger pierced his back, delving deep into his Undead skin as he grunted in pain. More blood oozed forth as I drew back.

It was Micah who drove his sword straight through where his heart would be, boring a hole the Undead being couldn't recover from.

The Lich King's body collapsed backward, the helm hiding his Human-looking face falling off and clattering across stone as a useless trinket. His cold, shaky hands reached in one last attempt at regaining power; then Arthas' body fell still.

Everything was motionless and silent as Arthas' body settled. The blue glow of his eyes that haunted thousands now dimmed and disappeared, uncovering a Human face with green eyes that gazed upwards in a search for answers.

The opaque body of the crowned man now kneeled at Arthas' side, causing a stir in his face that caught me off guard. His heavily armored hand gripped the ghostly robes. "Father…is it…over?"

I gulped hard. I didn't want to feel anything near pity for the Lich King. He deserved nothing but a painful end. But right now, it was Arthas on the floor. The noble prince that loved his father and took pride in Stormwind.

"No king rules forever, my son."

The blonde man's bottom lip quivered, his lungs managing to inhale a final breath. "I see…only darkness…before me…"

His hand fell from its place, life on earth finally finished as the ghost of his father closed his eyes. Once finished, he stood, addressing Fordring's stout frame. "Control must be maintained…there must always be…a Lich King."

Then he was gone in a swirl of silver ribbons, and all eyes drifted to Fordring, who now picked up the helm and looked it over with a determined eye.

_He doesn't actually think…?_

"The weight of such a burden. It must be mine." I took a step toward Fordring, ready to argue that we _needed_ him, but a stern hand snatched my shoulder back. "…There is no other to-"

"Tirion…you hold a grim destiny in your hands, brother…but it is not your own."

I looked up—we all did—to see the flamed figure sitting atop the ice cold throne.

"Bolvar…by all that is holy…" Tirion was already climbing up, the helm in his hands as the rest of us watched. They continued to talk inaudibly. I didn't want to hear anyway. I wanted to be done with Northrend.

Some priests were whispering prayers. Most of us stayed silent, pondering. Waiting.

"I MUST be forgotten, Tirion!"

I was holding my breath. It was the only way I could keep from sobbing and laughing at the same time. Our small group watched as Fordring nodded his assent and placed the silver helm over eyes that burned orange. The vibrant, hot flame took over the helm, glowing with the entire throne.

"Tell them only that the Lich King is dead…And that Bolvar Fordragon died with him," the voice boomed.

My forehead pulsated briefly, but I disregarded it as I watched the icy throne shift and crack, encasing the new Lich King in frozen ice.

"NOW GO. LEAVE THIS PLACE—AND NEVER RETURN."

Fordring was before us in no time. Relief had settled some premature wrinkles on his face, and Fordring carried himself with a little more ease now. "Mage, can you portal us to the entrance? We have an announcement to make." He patted Micah on the back, gaining a smile from our tank. As the portal was conjured, our group finally relaxed, giving handshakes, slaps on the back. _Joking_ about dying.

Zen approached quietly, his aura the calmest it's been since before Northrend. "We did it."

I could finally just relax. My arms wrapped around Zen, nearly pushing him over as he chuckled. "I just watched you die, what's so funny?" I grumbled.

"I'm just happy that you're alive. We did it." I smiled, pulling back and quickly wiping away tears that seemingly slipped out of happiness. The resurrection spell had been a gift to all of us; but now I saw Death differently—it had given me an opportunity to see Dennis once more. For that I was grateful. No longer did I fear death, but it was more; it was the excitement of living life, to cherishing those close to me.

The portal was glowing in readiness now, and Zen's arm guided me to the whimsical doorway. As the reflections of light hit my face, I stepped in all the way and smiled.

When we arrived at the entrance, it was Mograine and his death knights still waiting for word. But the presence of us, of many of us, must have surprised him and his comrades. Darion offered Fordring a handshake. "You've returned."

"The deed is done, my friend."

Darion nodded. "The shift was undeniable. We were waiting for survivors. Congratulations, to all of you. And my thanks."

"We couldn't have done it without the death knights…"

I stopped listening now that formalities were done. I went to see Lucas, who didn't take long to find. He smiled, and it seemed more natural this time around. "I'm glad you're alive," he stated, giving me a hug that encased me in his bulky armor.

"Of course I'm alive," I stated. _I mean I only died, like, once, right? _

"What does a group of death knights do after the Lich King falls?" I asked.

Lucas shrugged. "There's nothing left for us here. Our purpose was to destroy Arthas."

"You can always come home," I mentioned, trying to make it sound less intimidating than it was.

He paused a moment. "Grace, look at me. Do you really think Stormwind is going to open their gates to this…this _monster_…"

"I'm not leaving Northrend without you!" I growled. "You belong there. With your family. Your wife and child."

Lucas nodded, as if expecting my angle. "You didn't change much. Still a Fulstorm," he commented lightly. "As soon as things settle down, I promise."

I sighed, then used my now bare hands to unhook the necklace that I had found at my brother's old campsite. Forcing his palm open, I dropped the silver emblem of the Alliance into his hand. "It's your home."

A breathe released from his lungs, but the angry, grievous expression I expected to see was merely an intense gaze.

"Grace? We're leaving for the Pinnacle."

"Zen," Lucas greeted, holding out a hand that Zen shook without hesitation. "Thank you."

Zen, probably too aware of our deaths moments ago, merely nodded numbly. Of course Zen couldn't protect me at every living moment; I found myself wondering if he would ever live that truth down.

We were brisk in leaving. Lucas promised that as soon as Darion and the death knights were finished at the citadel, he would find me.

"And how exactly will you find my whereabouts?" I countered, being sure Lucas had no excuse _not_ to come home with me.

"Word travels fast. The girl with the eyes of violet, right?"

My face grew hot. Apparently, Lucas had gained back some of his brotherly instinct to embarrass me. "_Please_."

I hugged Lucas, relieved that for once I didn't fear that this would be our last embrace. "Hurry home," I instructed.

"Not without you."

I pulled back, forcing a smile as Zen and I turned to await our new portal meant to take us back to the base. Part of me lingered on Lucas' simple comment—what would Lucas have done, had I died?

_Died for good,_ I reminded myself.

I couldn't bear to elaborate. Reborn. To live again. All of us.

"Just out of curiosity," Zen mentioned. "How's that bite mark on your neck?"

Pursing my lips, because I, too, was curious, I pulled away the fabric covering my collar bone. "Still there," I answered, though I couldn't be surprised. The bite mark was part of me now. "My eyes?"

"Still violet," Zen said with a wink.

"Good," I announced. "I wouldn't want to disappoint the public."

Zen laughed loudly, and then it was our turn to leave. Once more through the portal, and then our group was at the base of the hill housing our men. My friends.

Fordring was mentioning cause for celebration, and the big fanfare awaiting us at our homecoming to Stormwind. Oh, and the festival in our honor. And the parade and confetti and more fanfares…

All of that was nice. But what mattered most to me was the reconciliation of the past, the remembrance of those lives lost; and the opportunities awaiting us in the future, the ability to look forward to living.

And Zen. I grabbed his hand, pulling him back as the others hooted and hollered up the hill to reunite with the crusade. The wind, still whipping around my hair, wasn't so bitter anymore. The other rogue turned, curious, as I grabbed his other hand too, locking my fingers with his.

"It may have been your delirious state," I began softly, "but I _do_ think I remember, vaguely, you saying something before I blacked out."

"Vaguely?" he questioned with a crooked grin. It was such a new aspect of Zen to me—usually so stoic and calculating, Zen used to never allow me to see his more relaxed self. But with the turn of events, I had a feeling I would be seeing more of this Zen.

"Or maybe…it could have been my own imagination…"

"It was _not_ your imagination," he stated; his hot breathe was on my neck, giving me a shiver down my back.

My smile faded a bit as I thought of the circumstances surrounding Zen's confession. "I never got a chance…to tell you…"

Zen's face drew closer, his nose resting below my earlobe. "Well then, I guess it's good we've got a second chance." His lips rested on my neck a moment, the heat was coursing throughout my body now, and it was the most alive I felt since…well, being resurrected from death. I didn't think Zen could make me blush any more, but he had won again. Then his face was again facing me, his own structured cheekbones reddened. "I love you, Grace."

My smile was huge, a grin that stung my cheeks as my heart fluttered. "I love you, too."

He kissed me once more, long and tender, and when he pulled away, I had to re-catch my breath. "Now, let's go home."

But I was home. Home was with Zen. With family and friends. I could laugh and cry with them. With a life that now seemed to have so many possibilities.

The opportunities were boundless; I was alive.

Everything would be fine.

[end]


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